Sometimes We Forgive
by downtonabbey15
Summary: James nearly crumbles in the wake of a family tragedy, and the boys aren't sure they can piece him back together. No slash! Rating for eating disorder, self-harm - see inside for warnings. Sequel to "Through My Eyes".
1. Prologue

**AN: Hey guys! Here's a new story! This is a direct sequel to "Through My Eyes" but you don't have to read that to understand this. This story is actually going to be way longer, although I barely have half of it written so I can't really give you guys a guesstimate. **

**Just a few things I'd like to point out that may be important: James Maslow has stated that his father is Jewish and his mother is Catholic. I'm using that situation in a way for this story, only in reverse; James Diamond's mother will be Jewish and his father will be Catholic. This is pointed out later, but just thought I'd give you guys a heads up in case there's any confusion. **

**This story will also heavily discuss religion. I myself am Catholic, and I have relatives that are Jewish, so there should be nothing in here that offends anyone of either faith. I would never intentionally offend anyone of any religion. **

**This story will contain mentions of drug use, eating disorders, and self-harm, as well as non-graphic violence. Warnings should always be posted at the beginning of the chapter, but just a heads up if these will upset anyone. **

**I hate spoiling stories but I also hate unknowingly reading death fics and ending up crying half the night, lol. Rest assured, the BTR boys are all safe in this fic.**

**I think I'll stop ranting now, lol. Thank you if you stuck with this author's note. **

**WARNING: Mentions of an eating disorder/purging/self-harm/drug use. **

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**"Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them." - Oscar Wilde **

James wasn't sure he could ever forgive his parents.

That was a sin, he knew it. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help the rage that seemed to well up within him whenever he saw his father and his new wife. He couldn't help the frustration that overwhelmed him when his mother insisted they had to look and act as though everything was normal. He couldn't help the pure disgust he felt towards both of them when he thought about what they'd done. Most of all, he couldn't help the hatred he felt day in and day out.

He _hated _hate.

It chewed him up, spit him out, and stomped on him for good measure. It wrecked his relationship with his father, and it was coming close to doing the same with his mother. He didn't think he could ever trust his father again anyway, so he wasn't even sure it mattered. But his mother was pretty much all he had. A significant portion of his family was dead. His sisters could be dead too, for all he knew. Locked away in the hospital waiting room, his mind raced wildly. He nervously picked at his fingernails as he fought to quell the growing rage inside of him. He could feel his mother's eyes boring into his skull, but he refused to look at her. He was sure something quite unforgivable would come out of his mouth if he did, and that was the last thing they needed.

If his parents could have gotten a hold of themselves, he was fairly certain they could have saved their marriage. Even if they hadn't, there would have been significantly less animosity between them. If only his dad hadn't gone and gotten Nikki pregnant. . . If only his mother hadn't felt the need to criticize every breath he took. . . Even if the divorce had still occurred, James was sure it could have been better. Gwen wouldn't have turned to drugs and fallen for them so hard. Macey wouldn't have folded in on herself and might have kept talking. Maybe James would've faired a bit better and wouldn't feel as though he were literally falling apart at the seams.

But that wasn't the way everything went. The divorce had been brutal and ugly and caused so much hate to enter James' heart, he was certain it must be rock solid by now. He squeezed and pressed and compacted nearly all the love he'd felt for his family into a pitiful little ball that now sat in a tense heap in the pit of his chest. Any love he was offered after the divorce had been rejected; he was terrified of disappointment, terrified of getting his hopes up as he had when he was a child. He'd done his best to replace love with vanity; his appearance didn't disappoint him as his parents did. But even his looks had turned on him a few weeks ago. The toned, tan features were suddenly replaced with fat and weight checks and horrible nights spent vomiting in an effort to see what he expected to see. To see what _everyone _expected to see.

He wondered if Logan had felt this claustrophobic when they'd found out about his self-harm. It seemed as though he was constantly being smothered by his friends, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it. Logan seemed to calculate every little thing James put into his mouth. Carlos just stared, unsure of what to do besides treating James a little gentler than usual. Kendall flat out asked him when he'd eaten last and if he was okay and if he needed to talk and James hated it. He hated the fact that he made his friends worry the way he had. He hated that he'd somehow managed to hate the brotherly love they gave him, even though his dysfunctional home situation had caused him to crave it more than ever. He _hated _hate. Hate ruined people. It killed people.

James Diamond was fairly certain he was killing himself. And he really didn't care.

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**AN: Boom! Prologue done! What did you guys think? Please review! **

**God bless you and have a great day! Keep smiling!**

**-downtonabbey15**


	2. A Phone Call in the Night

**AN: I figured I'd post chapter one along with the prologue, just because. Enjoy! **

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Sometimes, Kendall Knight agonized over being the "leader" of the group.

As he peeled his eyes open groggily, he wondered why it was always him who seemed to wake at odd hours of the night.

Carlos slept like a _rock_. Despite the fact the kid was literally like a supercharged Monster drink throughout the day, he slept deeper than anyone Kendall had ever seen. He would end up in the oddest positions, legs thrown haphazardly over the bed as his upper body spread uncomfortably across his pillows and even the wooden headboard, sometimes allowing his head to dangle over the edge, but he never seemed to notice. Sometimes it would take all three of the others to drag him from his man-made nest in the morning.

James slept like such a _girl_. He moved in his sleep of course, but he smoothed his hair out when he laid down so that it wouldn't rumple or frizz. He never pressed himself into his pillows or the mattress, so he would be mark-free when he awoke. He didn't turn on his sides often and refused to cup his hands under his cheeks for fear of waking with reddened skin. And because he was so concerned about his image, he was an incredibly light sleeper. He was known to wake up if he sensed even a hair was out of place. The guys teased him mercilessly about it.

Logan…didn't sleep much. He was an insomniac, albeit a considerate one. He kept his laptop's brightness low so he wouldn't disturb Kendall, and he never played music or videos or anything that could keep the other boy awake. He could sleep light or heavy, depending on his mood and workload on a given day.

Kendall was just…weird. He liked to think he slept pretty normally; not as heavy as Carlos and not as light as James. Just enough to get himself fully rested without waking constantly at the slightest noise or being so far gone that he needed to be doused in a bucket of ice water to wake up (there were few times Carlos Garcia was _furious…_yeah, that had been one of them). But he had this…thing. Intuition, he guessed. He woke up at insanely odd hours of the night, sometimes to discover not even a noise had secretly been what roused him. No, it was always an odd feeling. He _always _knew when something was wrong. He knew when Katie had a bad nightmare, or when his mom was far back in memories of the past that brought her to tears. He knew when Carlos had secretly run away from home once, even before Mrs. Garcia had called his own mother, frantically searching. He knew when Logan had once spiked a dangerously high fever after a long week of rehearsal, despite the fact that he had looked fine before they went to bed and he'd given no indication of distress while he was asleep. And barely two weeks ago, when he'd found James locked away in the bathroom, forcing himself to vomit, only to find that he had been taking _diet pills _of all things. . . (yeah, that had been a long night, and an even longer and more emotional discussion on the bathroom floor between the four of them).

He didn't instantaneously know the issue when he awoke, but he knew the feeling. The deep, dark feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that always magnified and suffocated him until he found out the problem. None of the other guys got like that, not that he knew of anyway. Maybe that's why he'd been designated the leader, the protector. Because at moments like that, clearly, it was his job to deal with whatever was wrong, or at least get to the root of the problem so that it could eventually be solved.

So, as he peeled his eyes open, a bit annoyed at the sudden waking, his heart began to pound as he felt the feeling creep into his gut and take up what felt like a prolonged residence.

He propped himself up on his elbow, almost instantly a bit more alert as his annoyance drained away quickly. His eyes flickered over to Logan in the bed across the room. The younger boy was sleeping peacefully, curling his blanket around him as he stirred slightly. Kendall removed his own covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, quickly getting to his feet and moving towards the door quietly. He made it out into the hallway without a sound, intending to check Katie's room across the hall, then Carlos and James' catty-corner to her, then his mother's at the end. He hadn't even lifted a hand to the doorknob of his sister's room when he heard a low voice coming from the living room.

He was instantly hypervigilant, moving low and slow towards the loft before grabbing a hockey stick from the floor and peering over the edge. The living room wasn't very dark; it was nearly time for their alarms to go off, and weak sunlight protruded through the curtains, though it didn't do much good. Kendall could make out a single figure by the couch, and he dropped the hockey stick when he realized it was James. He felt a twinge of annoyance because _really, thanks James for scaring me half to death_. His friend was speaking in a tone so low it was almost unrecognizable to Kendall's ears, and he could see the light of his phone screen shining dimly as he pressed the device to his ear.

Once again, his annoyance evaporated, and he flicked the light switch on the wall beside him (a light switch that illuminated the _kitchen_ of all things, even though there was an additional light switch down in the kitchen itself). The light was bright, and it reflected off another lamp well-enough that it caught James' attention and he turned to face the kitchen. His eyes immediately flicked upwards and landed on Kendall.

The light didn't quite reach James' face, but it was bright enough for him to see the nearly distraught state his friend was in. _There was that feeling again. Yep, it had just sucker punched him and was now settling in once more. _

"What's up?" he whispered, soft enough to avoid waking anyone but loud enough so that James would hear.

James remained silent, holding up a finger that quietly said _hang on a minute_.

Kendall didn't speak again, instead heading back down the hall to Carlos and James' room. He pushed the door open, no longer bothering to be particularly quiet as he headed for his younger friend's bed. He jostled Carlos hard by the shoulder, knowing light prodding would only prolong the whole ordeal. Carlos groaned and muttered something incoherent, but his eyes flickered open.

"Carlos, hey wake up," Kendall said, waiting until the boy was groggily sitting up before he stopped. He jerked his head as he moved back towards the door. "Come with me." Then he headed for his own room, entering through the already open door and to Logan's bed.

Logan was instantly awake the second Kendall touched his shoulder, sitting up and raising a hand in defense as if it were an assailant instead of his best friend. He sighed shakily in relief as his vision focused and Kendall came into view.

Kendall winced. "Sorry," he apologized, quickly regretting the way he'd made him jump.

"What's the matter?"

Kendall was standing again, heading for the door. "I don't know yet. Just come on."

Carlos was already stumbling out of his room by the time Logan emerged, and the two looked at each other in confusion as Kendall quickly slid down swirly to join James in the living room. The others followed suit, pausing and remaining by the slide, unsure.

James still had the phone pressed to his ear, shaking fingers running back and forth across his forehead. He had been still when Kendall found him, but now he was restless, pacing back and forth across the floor in a tight line as someone spoke on the other end of the phone.

"No, I can," he was saying to the person on the line. A brief pause, then a nod. "Okay," he seemed to answer, taking a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to hide the way his voice cracked. "I'll try for this morning and if I catch one, I'll call you." Another pause. "Yeah, love you too. Bye." He flipped his phone shut and inhaled shakily.

Kendall wasted no time. "James?"

James turned to face them. His eyes shone with unshed tears, and he bit his lip hard in an effort to hold himself together. "That was my mom," he said quietly, taking another shaky breath. "Um. . ." He swallowed hard. "They can't find my brother. At all. He was out with my dad and he left him alone and now they have no idea where he is."

Okay, Kendall hadn't been expecting that.

"What?" he said after a while, realizing that neither Carlos nor Logan had spoken a word.

James nodded, unable to speak. He swallowed again. "She said they've been looking for two days, they don't know what happened." He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Um. . . I'm going to try to get a flight for this morning. Can you guys tell Gustavo? He's gonna be mad, but. . . "

"Boys?" Mrs. Knight's tired voice reached them from the landing above, where she stood peering quizzically at the group. "What's the matter?"

Kendall was already pulling his phone from his pocket when he turned to answer her. "Um. . . mom, can you get plane tickets back home? James has an emergency, we need to go."

His mother became clearly alarmed, but she nodded. "Of course."

"We can't all go," James protested.

"We can," Kendall said firmly. "And we will." He turned to Logan and Carlos, not allowing James to answer. This wasn't even a debatable issue. _Of course _they were all going. "Go pack," he instructed. "I'm gonna call Gustavo."

The other two obeyed, and Kendall put an arm around James and led him to swirly. The taller boy quickly hurried up the slide as well, and Kendall sighed a bit before pulling out his own cell phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he cringed before pressing a familiar number.

* * *

Kendall sighed and dropped back down into his seat, hurrying to buckle his seatbelt as the plane shifted. He turned with a smirk to James. "Just a warning," he said quietly. "Don't go in that bathroom."

James' brow furrowed. "Why?"

Kendall dropped his voice even lower. "I don't have good aim on a plane."

James scoffed good-naturedly. "Thanks for telling me that, man. I really needed to know that."

Kendall grinned. "I thought ya did." He sat back in the seat, exhaling deeply before pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He flicked it open, only to remember he wasn't really supposed to be using it while they were in the air. He grumbled, shoving it back into his pocket before sending a worried glance James' way.

The taller boy was stretched out in his own seat, his left hand cradling his chin as his right knee bounced up and down nervously. His gaze was fixated on the back of Carlos' seat, though his mind was clearly reeling.

"Hey," Kendall said quietly, nudging him. James' eyes flickered towards him, and Kendall's heart sank as he realized his humor from earlier hadn't lightened the mood like he hoped it would. "It's gonna be fine," he reassured him.

James nodded, but Kendall could tell he didn't really believe him. James' eyes moved to the screen of his own phone to check for messages, disregarding the flight attendant's earlier instructions to shut it off. She could tell him a hundred times and he still wouldn't listen. Not today.

He'd awoken early that morning, 6:32 a.m. to be exact; they were expected at school at eight and the studio at 1:30, and Logan, being the mother hen that he was, took it upon himself to be their personal alarm clock every morning. He ensured they were up, dressed, fed and on time, and today likely would've been no different. Only instead of Logan, James had been pulled from peaceful oblivion by his cell phone. It was his mother, which wasn't unusual. Brooke Diamond called her son literally every day, not that he minded. Although six something in the morning was a bit early, even for her; she knew they had school and work almost immediately afterward. James was half-asleep when he answered, perplexed and a bit irritated at being woken so early and unusually.

His mother had started off the conversation with, "Now, please don't freak out and fly home. . ." The statement had brought James to awareness quite suddenly, his gut twisting in fear because anyone who started a sentence with that phrase could never be about to say something good.

A sudden jar of the plane jolted James from his thoughts. The "fasten seatbelt" sign above them began flashing, and the flight attendant's voice came through the speaker system. "Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We're beginning our descent." She sounded much too cheery, considering their current situation.

His half-brother Landon had been missing for approximately 48 hours, his mother said, and he instantly gaged the seriousness of the situation because his mother _never _spoke about his father's second family. Ever. The fact that she knew about the current situation meant that she and his father had _spoken_, which again, happened almost never. She gave him no other details, no explanation as to what had happened. She absolutely _didn't_ want him to come home; Carlos' dad was spending every waking moment on the case and it was under control and she was sure it would all be resolved within a few days.

James, of course, responded with the intention of returning home immediately if he could manage to pacify Gustavo, and Brooke Diamond had readily agreed and told him she'd see him when he landed.

James loved his mother, but she was truly the most manipulative human being he'd ever met.

Mrs. Knight managed to get tickets for an 11:30 flight, but they'd sat on the tarmac for over an hour, and it was a two-hour flight. Added to the drive from the airport to their town, they likely wouldn't be arriving home until after four o'clock, which gave James literally the entire day to worry himself sick. And it certainly didn't help that his mother had so generously decided to stop answering her phone despite James' spamming.

"Do you remember when we were like, nine?" Kendall was saying, pulling James from his mind once again. He hoped he hadn't been talking for the past few minutes because James hadn't been listening at all. He nodded in response before Kendall continued. "It was like, the first time my mom left me in charge of Katie and I couldn't find her literally half an hour later. I freaked out and called you and Carlos, and we looked the entire day."

James smiled a bit at the memory. It was the first day of their summer vacation and Mrs. Knight had been called into work unexpectedly. Mr. Knight was away on a business trip, so she'd trustingly put Kendall in charge, the very first major responsibility he'd ever been given. But Katie was young, and Kendall found constantly watching her to be fairly boring. He'd opted instead to focus his attention on a new hockey video game he'd received a few months prior. He became so engrossed in the game that he completely lost track of his sister. Kendall had nearly gone insane as he, James, and Carlos searched their homes and neighborhood top to bottom for a then three-year-old Katie. They'd returned home late in the afternoon, sick with worry as they dreaded telling Kendall's mother that her daughter was nowhere to be found.

"When we finally got home," Kendall continued. "She was with Logan on my front porch. She'd gotten into his treehouse somehow and hid there the whole day. And he found her and brought her back."

They'd known Logan at that point; they were a bit mean to him too, making him do their homework ever since he moved to Minnesota since he was the nerd of their class. But despite all their unkindness, he brought Katie back safe and sound, and Kendall flat out refused to make Logan touch his homework afterward. He invited him to sleepover that same night, and the four became fast friends once they'd given him a chance (especially since Logan never blabbed and told Kendall's mother that yes, Katie could have very well been abducted by a serial killer and he would have been none the wiser since he was too busy playing a game).

"Maybe he's just hiding somewhere," Kendall offered, leaning against the back of his seat but continuing to face his friend.

That suggestion really didn't help at all. "Yeah, but it's October, not June. If he's outside in that weather-"

"I'm sure he's fine," Kendall interrupted. "Don't think like that, okay? You're gonna make yourself sick, James."

James fell silent, eyes dropping to his hands in his lap. "He's six, Ken."

Kendall's voice softened. "I know." He gently rested a comforting hand on James' knee. "It's gonna be okay. If Carlos' dad is on it, they'll have him back in no time."

Despite his doubts, James nodded for Kendall's benefit. The blonde was only trying to help, and he appreciated that. But he was certain the growing knot of worry in the pit of his stomach would only grow until they'd gotten his half-brother safely back to his father's house.

The plane hit another patch of turbulence, and a quick rustle of paper from the seats in front of them made both Kendall and James lean forward.

"Logan," Kendall said carefully. "You gonna be sick?"

"Nope," Logan answered through clenched teeth, even though he held a complimentary airsick bag close to his chin. The plane trembled again, and he scrunched his eyes shut. "Oh, we're gonna _die_."

"We're not gonna die," James assured him. "We're literally almost on the ground." He felt his stomach clench as he realized again just how much he was putting his friends through. Carlos pretty much went with anything, but he was still making a very unnecessary trip. Logan hated flying with a passion; it was a miracle he'd gotten this far without having a breakdown of some sort. Kendall was afraid of heights, though as long as he sat away from the window he didn't mind flying (and he was adamant that he'd outgrown the fear now, anyway, so he supposed it didn't matter). But poor Mrs. Knight had allowed a tenant to stay in her house while they were away, and his contract clearly stated they wouldn't be returning until nearly three months from now, so she had no choice but to book a hotel room. She, Kendall, Katie, and Logan would be cramming into a two-bedroom suite for Lord knows how long. James couldn't help but feel horrible. He'd driven them insane in the past few weeks with his own problems. They spent countless hours encouraging him and complementing him and telling him why eating was _good _and starving and purging was _bad _and why he was perfect just the way he was.

And now here he was again, putting his friends out physically, financially, _and _mentally, all because of his dysfunctional life. He wondered when they would get sick of him and ditch him for good.

Carlos somehow managed to sit cross-legged in the seat beside Logan despite his seatbelt and leaned casually against the window as he munched on a bag of gummies. "I saw a movie once where a plane landed and exploded as soon as it hit the ground," he said with a grin. Kendall and James shot him matching glares as Logan whimpered. "But that's totally not gonna happen!" he said quickly. "Totally not! Look, we're almost-"

The plane collided harshly with the tarmac, jarring them all in their seats so hard that even Carlos fell silent as he grabbed tightly onto his chair. The flight attendant's voice crackled back over the speaker as the plane began to slow. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've arrived in Duluth, Minnesota. Please enjoy your stay and thank you for choosing United Airlines."

The plane eased to a stop, and several passengers quickly rose from their seats and began gathering their belongings from the overhead compartments before disembarking. Behind them, Kendall's mother stood and grabbed her own carry-on bag.

"You boys ready?" she asked as three out of four of them stood stiffly. "Logan, honey," she called. "Are you all right?"

Kendall hunched down beside Logan's seat, trying a bit in vain not to laugh. "Logan?"

Logan was still clenching the armrests with a death-grip while his eyes were scrunched tightly shut. "Are we dead yet?" he whimpered.

"We're on the ground," Carlos chuckled, shoving the last of his gummies in his mouth.

Logan cautiously peeled one eye open, then, seeming to realize they were no longer moving, released his grip on the armrests. Kendall rolled his eyes as the shorter boy stood apprehensively, as though he thought the entire plane would combust with one misstep. He turned to grab his own carry-on bag and filed out into the aisle behind Mrs. Knight and Katie.

"Do you boys have everything?" the mother asked, eyeing the top compartments even as she asked them since they were known to be forgetful. The boys nodded in unison. "Okay, then. Here we go." She paused, eyeing the wrapper in Carlos' hand. "Carlos, make sure you get rid of your trash, please. Don't just leave it on the plane."

"I won't," Carlos answered, filing into the aisle behind Logan once Mrs. Knight started to move forward. He glanced around a bit aimlessly, searching for a trash bin. Eventually, he shrugged and crumpled up the wrapper, quietly placing it in the hood of Logan's sweatshirt.

"Carlos," Kendall muttered warningly from behind him as James chuckled. Carlos turned, placing a finger teasingly to his lips. The taller boys behind him rolled their eyes in unison and snickered softly. He was guaranteed a snap from Logan later, but it was worth it if it made James smile. His friend looked way too serious, and serious didn't look good on James Diamond at all.

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**AN: Thoughts? **

**God bless you and have a great day! Keep smiling!**

**-downtonabbey15**


	3. Seven's a Crowd

**I'm so sad right now I have no words. RIP to Cameron Boyce and nothing but prayers and love to his family, friends, and co-stars. My heart hurts.**

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Kendall snapped his phone shut a bit more aggressively than necessary, a smug smirk dancing across his lips. If hockey fell through, he was sure he'd have a more than secure backup in a law career.

"Well?" The question came from Logan, who was standing behind him with a bit of an amused expression on his face. "What'd Gustavo say?"

"He said it was fine," Kendall answered. "Eventually. He gave us a week." _It only took a few hours of phone tag and one horrendous conversation. . . _

"A week?!" Carlos cried from his position by the baggage carousel.

Kendall held his hand forward and rubbed his fingers together mockingly. "Pay up."

Carlos pouted, coming towards them and digging through his pockets until he produced a five-dollar bill. He handed it over reluctantly. "Darn it," he muttered as Kendall smiled and pocketed the money.

"Carlos, your bag," Logan informed him, nodding to the baggage carousel, where Carlos' large roller suitcase was now coming from the curtained area. A bulge at the top of the bag garnered a couple of stares.

Carlos' eyes lit up like it was Christmas. "MY HELMET!" he practically screamed, earning even more stares as he dashed to retrieve his luggage. He'd been forced, rather painfully, to leave his helmet in his bag as they entered the security check in L.A. He likely would have cried the entire flight if not for the endless supply of cheesy Disney movies on board.

Logan and Kendall chuckled softly, shaking their heads. They sincerely hoped the crowd hadn't made the connection between them and the current mini-madman leaning across the carousel.

Kendall's eyes drifted a few yards away to James. The taller boy had his cell phone pressed to his ear, and he spoke into it quietly. James must've called his mother a dozen times in the past half hour to let them know they'd landed, and she had yet to answer. It wasn't atypical of Mrs. Diamond in the least, but under the circumstances. . . Kendall took a deep breath in an attempt to quell his growing frustration. He knew it wasn't polite, but sometimes he wanted to put Brooke Diamond through a wall.

"Mom, it's me. . ." James was saying, though the others couldn't hear. "This is like. . . probably the fifth voicemail I've left. It'd be great if you could actually pick up."

"Logan!" Carlos shouted from the baggage carousel. "My bag is stuck!"

Logan heaved a sigh and hurried over to his friend, who had climbed up on top of the conveyor belt and was now being pulled along with his bag. The luggage piece was stuffed snugly between the metal walls of the carousel. "Carlos, get off the belt."

"We just landed," James continued, rolling his eyes and trying the hide the smirk that wanted to graze his face.

"But my baaaaaaag," Carlos whined, wincing as Logan tried to pull him from the belt himself.

"Carlos, we'll get your bag- "

"But it's stuck!"

"We'll get it unstuck!" Logan yelled. "Just get off the belt!"

"No!" Carlos cried, pulling away from his grasp and turning back to his bag. He grabbed onto the handle and began pulling with all his might once more. "Not without my helmet!"

James turned away and pressed his free hand to the ear without the phone. "We're getting our luggage, and then we're gonna rent a car and head for you."

Logan climbed awkwardly onto the conveyor belt as it continued to circle. He grabbed a hold of Carlos shirt and began to tug along with him. "Carlos, this isn't playtime," he grunted as the bag didn't budge. "This is serious."

"I know! I can't do anything without my helmet!"

"I didn't mean your helmet, Carlos!"

James sighed. "I gotta go, mom. We'll be there soon-"

The carousel suddenly rounded its last corner and began to move back into the curtained off holding area. Logan panicked, giving Carlos a harsh tug that sent them both to the ground with a grunt. The bag remained stubbornly stuck. Logan struggled to get to his knees, freezing when he realized they were approaching the curtain.

"Carlos, we gotta get off this thing," he said urgently, hurrying to grab his friend who was once again pulling at the bag.

"Not without my helmet!"

"Carlos!" Logan turned to face frantically behind him. "Kendall!" he shouted to the blonde who looked ready to keel over in laughter. "Hit the emergency stop button!"

Kendall nonchalantly approached a small panel on the side of the carousel, still very amused. It was literally covered in identical buttons. "Which one's the stop button?" he called.

Carlos' bag quickly disappeared back behind the curtain. The small boy realized what was happening, and he locked onto Logan's arm in a death grip as he started to slide behind the curtain as well. "Logannnnnnnn!"

Logan used his only free arm to cling onto the edge of the wall. "Oh my gosh – KENDALL!" The belt continued to move underneath them, threatening to drag them back behind the curtain. Logan's fingers started to slip, and he squinted his eyes shut, terrified of what he'd see. _Oh, man this is gonna be just like The Polar Express_. . . "KENDALL!"

"-If we're not arrested first," James quickly finished. "See you when I see you." He snapped his phone shut, whirling around and hurrying towards Kendall who still stood perplexedly by the buttons.

"I don't know which one!" he shouted, looking helplessly at Logan. He couldn't even hear himself above Carlos' cries. "They all look the same!"

"Kendall," James quickly said. He grunted as his foot caught on a bag on the ground and he flew forward, unable to stop himself as he crashed into Kendall. The blonde's head hit the operation panel with a loud _clang. _

"Ow!" Kendall cried. "James, that was my face!"

"Sorry!"

The belt suddenly eased to a stop, and Logan and Carlos relaxed only momentarily before a deafening alarm began to sound. A red light bolted to the wall just above the curtain began to flash.

In a heap on the ground, Kendall and James looked up hesitantly as the alarm continued.

"Did we do that?" James asked quietly.

Kendall rubbed his forehead, wincing. "Yep."

". . . Whoops."

"Boys!" Mrs. Knight shouted, hurrying towards them from the restroom with Katie in tow. "I left you alone for five minutes! What did you do?!"

"Uh. . ." Kendall stuttered. "Well, for starters, I think James broke my face."

"At least it wasn't 'The Face'," James interjected.

Kendall smacked him hard in the nose.

"Ow!"

"And I think Logan and Carlos just tried to get to Narnia." Kendall risked a glance at their other half only to see Logan practically flop off of the carousel and onto the ground. Carlos disappeared behind the curtain for a moment, only to emerge triumphantly with his bag. Several onlookers waiting for their own luggage glared at him with increasing impatience. Two security guards hurried over and began to work on the control panel, sending Kendall and James heated looks.

Mrs. Knight sighed and put a hand to her forehead.

"Sorry mom," Kendall said sheepishly.

His mother shook her head. "Let's just-"

"Carlos! Que haces?!"

Sylvia Garcia's voice cut shrilly through the alarm and sent Carlos scrambling off of the carousel frantically. He landed unceremoniously on top of Logan, who cried out in pain. A moment later, the belt creaked to life once more and began to circle again. Carlos hurriedly made sure his bag was safely on the ground beside him before raising his eyes to greet his mother.

"Mami!" he said with forced enthusiasm, quickly righting himself and opening his arms for a hug.

Sylvia marched determinedly across the large room and gave him a grim smile when she reached them. "Nice try," she teased, heaving a sigh and glancing at the body on the ground. "Hi, Logan."

"Hello, Mrs. G. . . ."

She turned to face Mrs. Knight with a chuckle. "I was going to call to tell you where I was parked, but I see all I had to do was follow the sirens." She sent a pointed look down at James and Kendall, who immediately flashed sweet smiles.

Mrs. Knight laughed, coming around the side of the carousel to give her friend a hug. "I didn't even know you were coming to get us."

Mrs. Garcia nodded. "Brooke sent me," she explained as the boys attempted to right themselves. "She was worried you wouldn't find a rent-a-car big enough, so I brought my van." She winced. "I think we're still one seat short, though. Unless I counted wrong. It only seats six including me."

Mrs. Knight frowned, then shook her head. "We'll figure it out." She turned to the catastrophic mess that was Big Time Rush with a sigh, then quietly added. "If we can get out of here without being apprehended by security. Boys! Get your bags please."

* * *

Logan winced as the van bounced over another pothole. He was fairly certain that his tailbone would be shattered by the time they reached their destination, and that was _so not _a kind of pain he wanted to feel. "Why do _I _have to sit on the floor?" he hissed.

Mrs. Garcia's concerns had been valid. Her van only seated seven people, six if they didn't count her. Mrs. Knight sat in the passenger seat beside her, James and Katie in the middle, and Kendall and Carlos in the final two. Logan was squashed between their seats on the floor, with not even a seatbelt.

"'Cause you drew the shortest Twizzler," Carlos said as though it were obvious. He shoved another long piece of licorice into his mouth just as Sylvia slammed on the brakes. Kendall dove to ensure Logan didn't go hurtling towards the front of the van, and narrowly missed colliding his own head with the back of his sister's seat.

"Sorry, boys," Mrs. Garcia apologized, wincing. "We're almost there."

Logan sat back again with Kendall's help. "It's okay, Mrs. G," he said, glancing down in confusion as something fell from his hood into his lap.

"Why didn't Papi come get us?" Carlos asked, raising his voice so his mother could hear him in the front of the van. He dodged Logan's sudden throw of his used gummy wrapper.

Sylvia looked uneasy. "He's. . . been very busy, sweetie." She shared a worried look with Mrs. Knight before returning her eyes to the road. She eased the car around a turn and began to slow down as she reached the Diamonds' house.

It was no secret that Andrew and Brooke Diamond were successful. Brooke had worked three jobs as an undergraduate student at a local college before earning her master's in business. She grew her cosmetics company from the ground up, and she'd done exceedingly well. Andrew was a curator at the museum across town with a Ph.D. in Museum Studies and Preservation. They'd built the best house money could buy, sparing absolutely no expense. Even after their divorce, both of James' parents shamelessly flaunted their impressive earnings. It was rather humiliating, to be honest, watching his parents host huge events and throw money around like it was confetti, especially considering his friends came from much more modest backgrounds. His parents' parties were some of the most difficult memories of his childhood. His friends and their families were all invited, of course; despite their differences, Brooke Diamond really couldn't stand to be without Sylvia and Jen. But with all of their families under one roof, the difference in class became painfully obvious, and James wished an innumerable number of times that his parents were teachers or something much more normal and modest than what they were.

Mrs. Garcia eased the car into the driveway and quickly removed the key from the ignition. She heaved a dramatic sigh before chuckling. It was a well-known fact among the families that she absolutely hated driving. "Okay," she called. "Everybody out. Carlos, throw your stuff up here and help the others with their things please."

"Oh," Mrs. Knight said suddenly as Katie and the boys climbed out. "Um. . . I hate to ask this, but could you drive me and Katie and the boys to the hotel later? I don't have my car and-"

"Oh, you're staying here," Sylvia finished, stepping out of the van and pocketing the keys.

Mrs. Knight furrowed her brow and chuckled a bit. "Uh, _no,_ _we're_ staying at the Best Western near the school. I booked it this morning."

"And Brooke called right after you did and canceled it."

James resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands because his mother was literally _so insane _sometimes. . .

"She canceled _my _reservation?" Jennifer repeated, clearly peeved.

Sylvia kept a bright smile plastered on her face. "Mmmhmm. She said she wouldn't dream of letting you pay for a hotel when you can just sleep here."

Kendall could see his mother physically force the blood back down from her head as she fought to not insult Brooke Diamond in front of her son. She eventually turned to the boys with what was clearly a forced, passive-aggressive grin. "Well, it looks like you boys are having a sleepover!" she said a little too brightly.

Carlos gasped. "Mom, can I stay too?" he quickly asked.

Sylvia shook her head. "Carlitos, absolutely not. They won't have the room, and I'm not letting you eat them out of house and home."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?" Carlos whined, pouting his face like a child and clasping his hands together.

"We have the room," James informed Mrs. Garcia as he grabbed his suitcase from the trunk. "And they can all just sleep in my room, anyway, so. . ."

Sylvia smiled but shook her head. "I don't want to put your mother out." She fixed her son with a glare they all knew was fake. "She doesn't need a human vacuum cleaner."

Carlos gasped again in mock hurt. "I am not a vacuum cleaner, I'm. . ." He stopped, looking to Logan for help.

"An extremely powerful food inhalation system?" Logan offered.

Carlos clapped his hands together sharply and threw an arm over Logan's shoulder. "Yeah!" he agreed earnestly, looking to his mother in triumph. Logan rolled his eyes and jokingly threw his friend's arm off of him.

Mrs. Garcia looked at him uneasily for a long moment before sighing in surrender. "I swear if you break the refrigerator again-"

"That was one time!"

"That was _four times_, and if you go for a fifth, I'll tell Mrs. Knight to cut off your corndog supply."

Carlos visibly paled before straightening up and giving a firm salute. "No broken fridges, got it," he said seriously.

Mrs. Garcia and Mrs. Knight shared a quiet laugh as the boys and Katie hauled their belongings from the trunk. Carlos moved to grab his own suitcase and nearly crumbled under its weight. Kendall struggled to help him in addition to his own bag, and the two nearly went flying down the driveway in a heap before James and Logan managed to grab hold of them and keep them upright, snickering as they did so.

Mrs. Knight sighed as she witnessed the spectacle. "Boys," she said. "Honestly, can we take this seriously please?" She waved away Kendall's offer to take her own bag as she pulled it from the trunk and extended the pull handle. She made sure nothing remained before helping Sylvia (who had clearly passed on her height genes to her oldest son) to reach up and close the door. The two women heaved a collective sigh before grabbing their bags and heading towards the front door. The boys and Katie followed a bit uneasily, registering the quickly somber mood the mothers had taken on.

Kendall nudged James and offered a reassuring look, and though James gave him a smile, it was clear the gesture did no good. The blonde shared a worried glance with Carlos and Logan before following the others towards the house.

* * *

**God bless you guys. Much love. **


	4. On a Midday Clear

**8/16/19**

**I have a few more chapters written, and I'm trying to post only once I've finished an additional chapter. But I've hit some bad writer's block so I thought I'd get this up now. **

* * *

James was literally dumbfounded at his mother's current behavior.

She'd greeted them at the door with what he and his older sister had dubbed her "hostess face" (a face that James had long been able to replicate remarkably well; it was only used for parties or occasions when "keeping composure" was important. It looked like a modern-day, business-hardened June Cleaver). She was put together as always but worryingly preoccupied (a sight that did nothing for James' nerves because a bomb could go off across the street and an evacuation could be ordered and his mother would still tell him the neighborhood was overreacting). James seriously wondered if he and his friends would ever be able to do anything competently because it seemed they were destined to constantly draw attention to themselves, even through the minute task of carrying luggage. They'd somehow all simultaneously misstepped and literally gone face-first through the front door before landing in a heap at his mother's feet (he'd hear about that later, he was sure). Carlos' shoulder seemed to have formed an attraction to the doorjamb on the way down because he was currently in the second-floor bathroom being coddled by his mother with multiple icepacks while the other boys and Mrs. Knight and Katie got settled. Well, as settled as his three friends could be on his bedroom floor.

James himself had dumped his belongings by the front door and promptly followed his mother to the kitchen as she busied herself trying to find something. She was clearly. . . well, his mother was never _frazzled_, just . . . preoccupied.

James straddled a kitchen stool behind the island counter and leaned on his elbows, crossing his arms before eyeing his mother uneasily. "So . . ." he said hesitantly.

His parents were a sore subject in general; his friends asked nothing unless he began a conversation about them, and that was rare. But speaking about his father's new family in front of his mother was unheard of, hence why he'd been so confused that it was _her _who informed him about his brother Landon, and not his father or stepmother. Or his younger sister. Or Carlos' dad, who had apparently been working on the case. Or literally _anyone _since today was the _third day _since Landon had vanished and James was sure a secret like that couldn't be contained in their small town for long. James was more than peeved about being kept in the dark.

But no. He avoided all mentions of his stepmother and half-brother when in the presence of his mother. He couldn't blame her either; it was his father who had gotten Nikki pregnant and ditched his current family to "do right" by her. If it were James in his mother's shoes, he was sure he wouldn't want anything to do with his ex either.

He didn't need to finish the sentence for his mother, who stopped her searching to meet his eyes. "Thank you for coming back here." She said, dropping her "hostess face" in favor of a more serious expression.

"Did you really think I wouldn't?"

Mrs. Diamond chose to ignore that. "Your father will appreciate it."

"Where is he?"

She exhaled deeply, finally finding what she was looking for (a takeout menu, of all things) in a pile of papers on the counter. "He's at the police station, with Mr. Garcia," she answered, opening a drawer and retrieving a pen and paper pad before setting them on the counter. James remained silent, but gave her a look that clearly said, "_Tell me_."

"I don't know much," she admitted, rubbing tiredly at her forehead.

"Well, what do you know?" James was hesitant to ask now. He'd been pining for information since he'd hung up the phone, but now he could see the worry in his mother's eyes and it only made him more nervous. His mother didn't hate Landon; he was only six years old, and it wasn't his fault his father had pretty much ruined his first family. But he wasn't her child, and although James was pretty sure most mothers had this odd, universal compassion for all children, she didn't ever speak of him or consider him when planning family events at all, even though he was a sibling of her children. But James could see now that she was worried for a child she hardly ever gave the light of day to, and it only made his stomach churn more.

"Your father went to the 7/11 at the edge of town on Friday," Mrs. Diamond was saying. "He left Landon in the car when he went inside . . . and someone took the car." She flipped open the menu and began to scribble something down. "Mr. Garcia is trying to track them down, but he hasn't had much luck."

James had a bit of trouble making his mouth move again. "You didn't say someone _took him_, Mom . . . That's not what you said on the phone."

Somehow, his mother didn't seem to have any difficulty browsing a takeout menu while talking about a child who'd literally been kidnapped. "Mr. Garcia thinks it was just a carjacking. He doesn't think the person who did it knew Landon was in the car until they got going. He doesn't think it was intentional."

"But it could have been?"

His mother paused her writing. "Apparently someone broke in the front window of your father's house three weeks ago." She looked considerably peeved. "Which of course, no one told me." No one had told _him _that either but. . . "Carlos doesn't think there's a connection, but there _may _have been. But that's all we know. They can't prove anything yet."

"So . . . someone could've _meant _to take him?"

Brooke gaze softened considerably. "Sweetie, I don't know. But we have half the town out looking. All the police outside of town know what car to look for." She shook her head firmly. "If anyone can find him, it's Mr. Garcia."

James nodded mutely. Carlos' dad was a fantastic cop, but it really did nothing for his nerves at the moment.

"Macey's staying here for now," his mother continued, referring to his younger sister. "She's out with Carlos' brother on a search." She hesitated, looking considerably annoyed. "And Gwen's coming."

_Um . . . what? _

"Why?" was the first question that slipped from his mouth, and he winced at how harsh it sounded. Although considering his older sister had pretty much made it her mission to write off her entire family and pretend as though none of them existed, he figured she deserved whatever animosity he felt.

Brooke sighed. "She says she wants to help."

". . . I didn't even know you talked to her."

Brooke lowered her voice as the boys' thunderous footsteps sounded on the stairs. "I don't. She saw it on the news and called _me_. She's furious we didn't tell her."

"Maybe we could've if she hadn't blocked our numbers," James muttered as his mother began to head for the living room where the boys had now settled.

"Please don't start anything," she said firmly but quietly. "My nerves are already shot, James. Just. . . make sure she doesn't drive us all to distraction, please."

"Is she staying? Like overnight?"

Brooke nodded.

"Great," he muttered under his breath as she left. He reluctantly slid off the stool and joined the others.

Completely uncharacteristically, the boys sat in a neat line on the couch while Mrs. Knight and Katie took a loveseat across from them. Sylvia sat on the armrest beside Carlos, still wincing as he nursed his shoulder with the icepack.

"Carlos, do you need more ice?" Mrs. Diamond asked.

"Nah, I'm good," Carlos answered. His mother nudged his injured shoulder and he bit back a squeal. "I mean, no thank you." He handed the ice pack back to his own mother, who left to return it to the freezer.

"I'm ordering pizza," Brooke announced, glancing at her notepad. "Does anyone want any sandwiches?"

"Ooh, can I get two?" Katie asked quickly.

"Katie," her mother reprimanded. "You do not need pizza _and _two sandwiches. Where are you going to put it all?"

"I'll find a place."

Brooke chuckled as Mrs. Knight sighed and jotted down the request. The boys rattled off their own choices, and Mrs. Diamond grabbed her phone and stepped away to place the order.

James dropped heavily onto the couch beside Kendall and sighed. Kendall gave him a sympathetic look but remained silent. He had absolutely _no idea _what to say. He didn't share his own feelings often, not unless the situation was serious and he definitely needed someone to listen. But James didn't talk _at all_. He swallowed everything and put up his mask, and Kendall had no clue how to begin to help him. This wasn't a lost part in the school play or a bad grade, or even a divorce. He didn't even know _what _this was because no one had told them _anything _yet.

His mother sent him a reassuring look from her seat across from them, and he tried to manage a small smile, though his heart wasn't in it. _'It'll be okay,' _Mrs. Knight mouthed.

Kendall prayed to God she was right.

* * *

**God bless you guys. Much love. **


	5. Clifford, the Big Red Dog

**8/23/19**

**I'm trying to mass-produce chapters before I go back to school this week. It's actually going pretty well, thank God, considering I've had writer's block since June. **

**Ba da boosh, here we go. This is the last chapter before things start to pick up and get interesting. And angsty, because where would I be without angst. . . I'm going to shut up now. **

* * *

Someone way back when said opposites attract.

James was sure Logan could give him a science-y explanation as to how that came about; something with poles. He thought his chemistry teacher had once said something about it. And he guessed he could sort of understand the phrase when it was in relation to magnets or whatever.

But he couldn't fathom how his parents had actually loved each other. He couldn't clearly remember a time they'd ever gotten along. They put on a united front at parties and such, of course. But behind closed doors, they'd spent James' entire childhood belittling each other and making each day miserable for the other.

His mother was Jewish. She wasn't Orthodox, but she was from a fairly traditional congregation. She was strict, and her faith was very important to her. So naturally, it came as a shock to her family when she announced she would be marrying Andrew Diamond, a Roman Catholic. Andrew's faith was important to him too, although he had considerably fewer concerns about the difficulties an interfaith marriage may cause than his fiancée's family did. They were confident they could make it work.

And they had; word on the street was, his parents had actually been _happy _during their early years as a married couple. They respected each other's views, celebrated holidays on both sides (as odd and occasionally difficult as it was), and were genuinely content with each other.

They hadn't planned on children, really. They both wanted to be parents, but their careers were important to them, and both were a bit unwilling to give up their work. So, their oldest child Gwen came as a complete surprise. They hadn't planned on how to raise children either; Judaism is passed through the mother's bloodline, so any children they had would inherently be considered Jewish, even if they didn't practice. Brooke (who also named their first child only minutes after her birth without even consulting her husband; but really who would argue with a woman who'd just given birth?) felt it would be in Gwen's best interest if she were raised Jewish, so she was. She suggested that, in theory, they could sort of . . . _switch off, _every child being raised in the other faith. Their next child would be Catholic, if Andrew wanted. They'd agreed on that.

In the four years that Gwen was an only child, several things were realized; the most important being that James' parents had seriously conflicting personalities that hadn't really come to light before they'd become parents. Brooke was a hoverer and a control freak; she felt fairly certain Gwen would inevitably fall into a bottomless pit or be eaten by something lurking in the shadows if her mother didn't constantly keep her in her sight. Andrew was considerably less restrictive, and Brooke made it clear that his parenting style wasn't up to her standards. She gradually squashed his every comment until he left nearly every parental decision to her and her alone.

James was nearly four and a half years younger than Gwen, and their mother seemed to have suffered a memory lapse during that time span because when James (who she _also _named) was born, she insisted he be raised Jewish as well. Andrew wasn't against having Jewish children, but he made it clear he felt slighted. He attended Mass by himself, and he felt as though raising both of their children in their mother's faith made him feel separate, almost pushed to the side.

When Macey was born a year and a half later, he put his foot down. He had her baptized and he named her himself, and Brooke was furious that he'd technically gone behind her back. From then on, Andrew Diamond seemed to relish making his wife miserable. It was only fair, he reasoned, since she seemed intent on doing it to him.

James and his sisters became increasingly used to their parents' hostility as they grew. They really were great parents; at least, most of the time. Brooke was definitely a helicopter parent, and Andrew was often absent-minded when it came to their extra-curricular activities, but they did their best. It was when they were together that there were problems.

Brooke had enrolled Gwen in beauty pageants at a young age, and the two spent countless hours driving back and forth to Minneapolis for an insane number of events. Andrew didn't bother to hide his distaste; each gig cost a small fortune, and he didn't approve of his daughter flaunting herself in front of a panel of judges as though she needed their approval. But Brooke didn't care what Andrew thought, and he, likewise, didn't care what she thought. He signed James up for hockey, even though James was set on auditioning for the school play. Brooke was furious, but just as _she _had done in Gwen's situation, _Andrew _made it clear he didn't care. So, Brooke drove James to the audition _anyway_, and the nine-year-old was forced to balance both activities for three months (he became an expert multitasker after that experience). Brooke dragged Macey to half a dozen speech therapists for her stutter, then to Sign Language classes, as a particular doctor instructed, in hopes that signing would simultaneously slow down her oral speech. Andrew was fed up with forking money over to doctors who clearly weren't helping his daughter's stutter, and he made his annoyance known. She could speak just fine (sort of), so why bother learning to sign? Well, Brooke took Macey _anyway._ She wanted her to sound "normal," as she put it (and James really applauded his mother on that one, considering that now Macey signed everything and _refused_ to speak one word).

They fought over _everything_. Andrew was too messy; Brooke was too neat. Brooke was overbearing; Andrew was inattentive. Brooke wanted pizza; Andrew wanted a steak. They couldn't find common ground on even the tiniest of things, and it drove James up a wall. It was no wonder why he spent literally all of his time at his friends' houses.

But for all that Brooke Diamond was known as the world's most uncompromising person, James could see she was really, truly trying to help their current situation. She invited Andrew and his wife Nikki to dinner, which spoke volumes because Andrew wasn't really welcome at his previous residence anymore, and Nikki was forbidden from stepping foot inside unless there was an emergency. But now his father's Cadillac was pulling up to the front of the house, right behind Mr. Garcia's police cruiser. James let the foyer window's curtain fall back in place as he stepped away to stand closer to the entrance of the kitchen. His friends were still on the couch, and it was clear they were completely unsure of what to do. They wanted to support James, but they didn't want to tread.

Mr. Garcia came in first, with Julio, Carlos' younger brother in tow. Their grim faces told James and the others all they needed to know. Andrew, Macey, and Nikki stepped awkwardly through the door then, and they looked absolutely awful. Nikki's young face was tight and drawn below her light blonde hair and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. And even though James had never really liked her (considering she'd helped destroy his home life) his heart went out to her, because it was clear she was distraught over losing her only son. His father looked equally as bad, although he was somewhat more composed than his wife.

His mother actually _hugged _Nikki, which vouched for the seriousness of the situation because Brooke refused to be anywhere near the woman who'd ruined her marriage. She even sent a sympathetic look to her ex-husband (also equally as rare) until he came fully through the door behind his wife . . . wielding a pet carrier.

His father had been in the house for approximately three seconds before his mother lost it. And in light of how things had been between his parents for the past few years, James supposed that was actually an improvement.

His mother's voice was literally like nails on a chalkboard. "Absolutely not! Get that thing out of my house!"

Andrew didn't look like he was at all in the mood for his ex-wife's antics. He tiredly set the carrier down on the ground and began to unlatch the door. "I don't have anywhere else to put him, Brooke."

"What about your own house?"

Whatever was in the carrier began _braying _like a freaking _sheep_, screeching at the top of its lungs as if begging to get out. James sent an incredibly perplexed look to his sister and signed, _'What is that?' _

He had to do a double take when she responded, and Macey not only repeated the sign, but finger spelled it and signed it once more. Yes, she confirmed, he knew his ASL just fine.

It was a _goat_.

And that fact was confirmed when his father lifted the screaming animal from the carrier and cradled it awkwardly in his arms. It was a small, white and brown patched goat that was wriggling around in Andrew Diamond's grasp as though he were seeing the sun for the first time.

The boys had come up behind James by then, having heard the commotion, and stood equally as stunned behind their friend. "Awww, I want a goat!" Carlos whispered, clasping his hands together. Kendall nudged him and gave him a look that silently said, "Shut up."

"You are not keeping that thing in this house!" Brooke cried.

James' father was getting visibly annoyed. "I can't put him anywhere else," he repeated through clenched teeth. The goat began to bray even louder. "Macey take this thing!" Macey stepped forward and extended her arms.

Brooke clapped her hands sharply. "Don't you dare!" she snapped, and Macey quickly stepped back with a roll of her eyes. "You put that thing back in the crate and take it home! I lived with a goat for seventeen years, I'm not doing it again!"

James was certain that if his brother wasn't currently MIA, his father would've bit back with an even nastier comment. But he didn't. "He won't calm down without Landon or Macey, and I can't control him at home!"

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you bought him!"

"He wanted a goat, what was I supposed to do?!"

Brooke scoffed. "Maybe don't buy him every little thing he asks for! He and Macey are so spoiled-"

"Oh what, and James bought that water bed himself?"

"-Maybe if you actually parented them-"

Nikki jumped in. "You mean the way _you_ do?"

"Shut up, I'm not talking to you!"

James let the back of his head fall against the wall with a loud _thump! _as the cycle continued. He caught a sympathetic look from the guys as the arguing only intensified until eventually, Mr. Garcia stepped forward.

"Okay, _okay_," he said quickly, holding his arms out as if to separate them even though he didn't lay a hand on them, and they hadn't even gotten physical (yet). "This isn't helping anything, guys." He sent a somewhat pleading look to Mrs. Diamond. "Brooke. . ."

Brooke glared at him but heaved a sigh and shook her head. "Don't let it in the kitchen," she eventually conceded, running a hand through her hair as Andrew deposited the animal into Macey's arms. Macey gave him a look that clearly said, _'Why me?'_ Andrew gave a nod of acknowledgment to the boys. Nikki said nothing, instead following Mr. Diamond into the living room without so much as a word.

James sent a reeling look to his sister. "A goat?" was just about all he could say as he stared at the animal in his sister's arms. Macey raised an eyebrow in confirmation as she set the goat gingerly on the ground.

_'Clifford,' _she finger spelled quickly.

"Clifford?" James repeated, partly in disbelief and partly for the benefit of the boys who were glancing at him in confusion.

_'As in "The Big Red Dog." Landon named him.' _She mouthed the words slowly that time, trying to save James the effort of interpreting everything she said. Carlos understood first and darted forward to kneel on the floor in front of the goat.

"Awwww, hi Clifford!" he cried, hunching down to look the animal in the face. Clifford brayed and stomped the ground a bit with his hooves. Carlos giggled and did the same with his hands, and the goat copied. He turned to the other boys with a grin a mile wide. "Guys, look how smart he is!" The goat brayed again before quickly scurrying into the living room. Carlos darted after it, calling, "Here Cliffy! Here boy!"

Kendall and Logan shared a look before Kendall patted James on the back. "We'll go make sure he doesn't destroy anything," he chuckled as they headed after them, eager to get away from the tense situation.

James raised an eyebrow at Macey and smirked as he signed, _'I don't know if they meant Carlos or the goat.' _

Finally able to get through, Katie hurried into the foyer and attempted to wrap her arms around Macey's waist. The sixteen-year-old caught her by the arms and gently pushed her away, mouthing and signing, _'Don't. I'm really sick.' _

Katie shook her head and said something James couldn't hear, then enveloped Macey in the hug anyway. Macey returned the hug a bit reluctantly with one arm as she coughed into her sleeve.

Their conversation seemed to jog Brooke's memory because she turned and practically shouted into the living room, "Yeah, speaking of which, did you take her to a doctor?"

"Tell me when I had time, Brooke!" came Andrew's response, clearly peeved.

"Oh, gee I don't know. Maybe while you were driving around all day doing Lord knows what!" She trailed off as she headed into the living room, hands on her hips and face set in a scowl.

Clifford brayed loudly from. . . wherever he was, and Carlos let out an, "Awww!" prompting Katie to hurry in the direction of the sounds.

James chuckled weakly and turned back to face Macey. He was silent for a moment before sputtering once more in disbelief, "A _goat_?!"

She nodded. _'Yep. He wants a goat, bam. I ask for a dog, I get a phone.' _

_ 'Oh, poor you. I wish dad bought me a phone. Mine still flips.' _

_ 'I'll trade you. I'd rather the flip.' _

The doorbell rang, and not even a split-second later Brooke's voice cut through the air like a knife. "James! Get the food!"

James let his eyes roll heavenward before stepping forward to open the door. Macey waved a hand in front of his face to catch his attention before signing, _'Yeah, welcome to the madhouse. You know Gwen's coming?' _

_ 'Yeah,' _he signed back. _'Mom told me.' _

Macey raised an eyebrow in response. _'Katie's taking my bed me and Miss Personality are sharing a room.' _

_'. . . Are you serious?' _

The doorbell rang again, and Brooke suddenly appeared in the foyer. "Thanks, guys," she said, exasperated as she pulled open the door. "The help right now is really overwhelming."

"Sorry, Mom."

Macey moved towards the stairs and signed, _'I'm not hungry. If she asks, tell her where I went,' _before heading for her room.

"James," his mother suddenly interrupted, causing James to whip his head around quickly to face her. "Take the food, please."

James grabbed the stack of boxes from a very impatient looking delivery boy and hefted them in his arms. His mother pressed a wad of money into the employee's hand before uttering, "You'd get a better tip if you were nicer."

"_Mom_," James hissed in disbelief as the disgruntled worker stalked back towards his vehicle.

"People need reality checks every so often, James," his mother said coolly as she watched the boy leave. "His job is to provide good customer service, which he wasn't doing. Now he knows and he can improve."

"Okay, but did you. . ." He trailed off as he took in the change in his mother's expression. "What is it?"

Brooke heaved a sigh. "There's your sister."

James craned his neck to see through the doorway and yes, there was Gwen Diamond's beat up old Dodge pulling in haphazardly behind their father's car. Brooke gently pushed James away from the door as she closed and bolted it. James briefly entertained the idea that his mother was going off the deep end. "You're not just gonna leave it open?"

"She can ring the door like a civilized human being," was the only answer he got before his mother stalked off into the kitchen. "Bring those in here please, James," she called over her shoulder, and James suppressed a groan.

He'd been here approximately two hours and he already wanted to go home.

* * *

**Bam. Please let me know what you think and leave a review! It'll make me happy as I sit in math class this semester. . . I'll need some happiness in that class. **

**God bless you guys. Much love. **


	6. Have You Seen Me?

**Here's chapter 5 guys! School has officially started, so. . .fun. I already have lots of school work, but I'm going to try to keep updates coming. I've got some other stuff planned, but we'll see. **

**Also, thank you to my wonderful reviewers! Your support really means a lot. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. **

winterschild11: Oh, yes haha. The goat will be an interesting touch later, at least for Carlos. I needed some comedic relief, just so I don't drown myself in angst which I'm intending to do, lol. And thank you for being so supportive of all my stories! It really means a lot!

ColleenyoMarie: Hi and thank you so much for the review! I'm glad you like the story! And yes, I'm still currently writing chapters. I will be for quite a while, haha.

* * *

Gwen Diamond was quite possibly the most disagreeable human being on the face of the earth.

Well, okay Kendall knew that he himself could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be. But he didn't deliberately try to make things difficult for everyone.

Gwen had come barreling through the door shortly after arriving, complaining that no one even greeted her and that she'd _seen _her mother at the door, so there wasn't any excuse. She didn't like the food they ate. She didn't like that she had to sit at the counter to eat because there wasn't enough room for all of them at the table. She didn't like the movie they chose when all the kids retreated to the basement afterward per the parents' request (an arrangement that proved how inconsiderate adults could sometimes be, because the fact that all the children were together made Landon's absence painfully obvious). She didn't like the snacks they brought down. She didn't like that Macey (who had some sort of terrible sinus infection and sounded like she'd been smoking for a decade when she breathed) was sharing her room with her.

If Gwen even attempted to complain about one more thing, Kendall was going to throw that boys-can't-hit-girls rule out the window and punch her in the face because he was ready to rip his hair out. She was driving everyone else insane, too, and he could see it. She backtalked Mrs. Diamond and even the other adults every chance she got, and she snapped at him and the children and demanded they shut up and leave her alone.

James looked absolutely humiliated, and it only made Kendall's anger towards Gwen flare more.

They were getting ready for bed now, and the boys realized Mrs. Garcia was right when she said they were crowded. Brooke's house was large, but it only had so many rooms. The boys were congregated in James' room, while Katie took Macey's and Mrs. Knight got the guest room. Gwen and Macey had to share the former's old room, and after a long speech about how she and her boyfriend's apartment wasn't as cramped and she didn't have to share a room with a kid and a goat and blah blah blah. . . Gwen finally retreated into her bedroom and shut the door.

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan were spread out in a blob next to James' bed, curled up in sleeping bags with masses of pillows and blankets that Mrs. Diamond had provided. James was sprawled on his bed, feet on top of the covers that he'd pushed to the bottom. He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand.

"I'm sorry, guys," he eventually said, breaking the silence.

Kendall cut him off almost immediately. "James, don't you dare apologize for her. She's a b-" he caught a glare from Logan, "-a jerk and she needs an attitude adjustment, but that's not your problem. Your mom needs to deal with her."

"Yeah," Carlos chimed in. "Even though she's like 20 something. Your mom needs to tell her off. She's a mom; they're allowed to yell at us until we're old." The comment brought a small smile to James' face, but it quickly vanished as a knock sounded at the door, and Mrs. Knight poked her head inside.

"6:30 tomorrow, okay boys?" she said. They each suppressed a groan before bidding her respectful "goodnights" as she closed the door and headed for the guest room. James switched the lamp beside his bed off, and the four tried their best to calm their minds and settle in for the evening. Barely five minutes had passed before Carlos began to toss restlessly in his sleeping bag. Kendall tried his best to ignore it but lost his temper when Carlos heaved a rather dramatic sigh before switching positions once again.

"Carlos," he growled groggily, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Stop."

"I have to pee," Carlos complained, turning onto his side to face him.

"Then _go_."

"But the bathroom's all the way across the hall." The Latino boy sighed again, flopping onto his back.

"It's not gonna go away, Carlos," Logan chimed in, half-asleep but clearly still mentally present. "Actually, when you hold it, you run the risk of building up toxins in-" He stopped as a pillow abruptly met his face from James' direction. "Ow."

"Ughhhhhh," Carlos groaned, reluctantly pushing back his blanket and getting to his feet. He stumbled blindly through the room and thrust his hand forward, fishing for the doorknob. Suddenly, the door flew open with such velocity it collided with a _smack _into Carlos' forehead. He cried out and fell backward, earning a grunt from Logan as he sprawled onto the unsuspecting younger boy's lap.

Gwen, clad in a tank top and shorts, stood irritably in the doorway. "Can you not stand in front of the door?" she snapped.

"Can you maybe open the door like a normal person?" Kendall snapped back, eyes on Logan as he awkwardly cradled a now disoriented Carlos.

Gwen ignored him and sent a pleading look to James. "Can you keep the goat in here?"

James sat up. "What? _No_, no way."

"It keeps eating my feet!"

"I don't care! I don't want it eating mine!"

Gwen grumbled and leaned lazily against the doorframe. "Dude, I'm a crab without my sleep," she whined, twirling her blond ponytail in her fingers as if it would make them cave.

"You're a crab in general," Carlos said quietly, rolling to his knees and rising to attempt to visit the bathroom once again.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Carlos exited the room quickly, and the click of the bathroom door sounded a moment later.

Gwen turned back to James with an irritated look before standing upright and heading back towards her own room. "I'm bringing the goat in here."

James glared at her incredulously before shouting, "What did I just say?!" He shot a look at Kendall. "Lock the door," he ordered, motioning. "I don't want that thing peeing on us all night."

Kendall wasted no time in the shutting the door and clicking the lock into place. He settled back against his pillow with a sigh, and James and Logan followed suit, glad for the eventual peace. It was shattered a moment later, however, when the knob jiggled and someone started pounding on the door. "Guys, what the heck?" came Carlos' hurt voice from outside.

"Oh, shoot," Kendall groaned, getting up again. "Sorry, Carlos." He unlocked the door and laid back again, his brow furrowing as muffled voices sounded in the hallway.

Carlos pushed open the door a moment later, clutching a bundle to his chest. "Guys, we have a sleepover buddy," he sing-songed.

"No!" the other three simultaneously shouted as the goat began to bray loudly.

"Carlos," James pleaded. "No. Please no, it's just gonna pee everywhere and it'll keep us up all night."

"No, he won't," Carlos pouted. He nuzzled the goat's head with his cheek. "He'll sleep with me. I'll keep him quiet." Seeing their disbelieving looks, he stuck his bottom lip out for good measure. "Pleeeeeeeeeease?" he begged. "I promise he won't make a sound."

The boys looked wearily at one another before James shrugged and laid back down. Carlos whooped for joy and immediately climbed back into his own sleeping bag, cuddling the goat beside him. It snorted quietly in contentment, and Carlos closed his eyes with a smile on his face. James stared at the pair a bit apprehensively for a moment before turning onto his side and closing his own eyes with a sigh.

He supposed his room would smell like goat in the morning, but oh well.

* * *

The next morning dawned cold and dreary, and the miserable state of the weather matched James' mood to a "T." He was standing awkwardly on the ground beside the front porch of his mother's house, wrapped in a scarf and a thick jacket which did nothing to ward off the chills currently wracking his frame. He attributed only part of his shaking to the cold; his insides were quivering even more so because he wasn't ready for this _at all_.

There was a long white table set up to his right; the collapsible kind his parents had used for parties when he was younger. It gave him an eerie feeling because now, instead of colorful red paper neatly covering the surface, the table was littered with organized piles of a large, blown-up photo of his brother. Landon's frozen face peered up at him, and James fought to squelch the thought that it was quite possible he'd never see his half-brother again. Beside the photos was a pile of large maps. Each was of the general area of town, with a building by the north circled in bright red ink and an arrow pointing south into town beside it. Several sections of the forest surrounding the far south of town were also circled and shaded grey. On the far left of the table were more than four huge stacks of flyers. They stated Landon's age, weight, appearance, and the last time and place he was seen; the 7/11 at the north side of town. That, James realized, was the building circled in bright red. The flyer also listed his father's SUV model and license plate, along with a few other random details. The worst was the picture though. A different picture, this one of Nikki holding Landon in a tight hug, was plastered to the top of the flyer with the words, _"Have You Seen Me?" _written in big bold letters above it.

James hadn't even had breakfast, but he was thoroughly nauseated.

His front yard was full of their old friends and neighbors. It was seven o'clock a.m. on a Tuesday, so no one their age was present. But James recognized quite a few of his parents' old friends who'd seemed to disappear after the divorce. Nikki and his father had arrived not long ago, and Carlos' parents were there too. Mr. Garcia and his team were talking in hushed voices by the garage, far enough away to hide their conversation but close enough that James could see the obvious concern on their faces. It did nothing to comfort him.

He wasn't sure where Katie and the guys were, or his sisters. Or his mother. Call him a narcissist, but James felt quite alone, standing solitarily by the porch. He hadn't been alone at all the past two weeks. His friends were on him like hawks and although it had been getting under his skin, now that he was on his own, James couldn't help but feel nervous. Kendall had literally sat across from him and watched him eat breakfast every day, just to make sure he didn't toss the food or manage to hide it somewhere. It made him a bit uncomfortable, but he hadn't eaten anything yet today and he was sure the other guys had noticed. They said nothing though, and James had quite the set of mixed feelings. If they were trying to keep from stressing him and were trying to let him breathe, then he really appreciated it. On the other hand, maybe they were so caught up in everything that they'd genuinely forgotten that James had the overwhelming urge to vomit every time he managed to stomach something. If they had, he could easily resort to his old habits and lose the few pounds he'd gained since they started monitoring his eating. He knew it wasn't healthy to think the way he did, but he honestly didn't care.

He was _petrified _at that moment.

They were sending out organized searches every two hours, and in three days they'd still managed to come up with nothing. His father and Nikki had been at the police station yesterday, but they'd apparently spent the first two days driving along the highway south of town, searching for their son and the car. Macey and dozens of other volunteers combed the nearby brush, and the police had brought in tracking dogs on Saturday. He would be going on a search today, he assumed, and he was shaking at the prospect. He wanted to find Landon, he just. . . didn't want to. The longer they went without finding him, the greater the chance that something horrible had really happened to him. James had tossed and turned the whole night, wrought with nightmares about finding what was left of his brother. He wasn't a big crime show watcher, but Carlos loved them, and by default, the other boys watched them frequently as well. It seemed as though every horrible Dateline and NCIS scenario had suddenly come back to his mind and decided to take up permanent residence.

He did his best to keep his shaking hands shoved in his jacket pockets as Mr. Garcia broke away from his team and hurried to stand on the front porch. He raised his hands for silence, and the crowd quieted almost immediately. It was eerie, and it attested to the seriousness of the situation. "Everybody," he started, lowering his hands. "On behalf of Andrew, Nikki, and my department, I'd like to thank you all for coming out here today. I'll make this quick so we don't lose much time. For those of you who are here for the first time, we've estimated Landon was abducted from 7/11 at approximately 4:48 p.m. on Friday. He was inside a red Chevy SUV with the license plate, 'AND - 2005.,' and was wearing a grey polo shirt with khaki pants. We don't have a description of the kidnappers, but we believe the vehicle headed directly south through town." He picked up a few maps and held them in a presentation-like manner. "Those of you covering quadrant one, which is Rt. 40 and the surrounding area, try to get a bit further out today. My officers and I are happy to give a lift to anyone heading out on foot, but those of you with cars, please try to get down near Bughford peak. Those of you with the developments in quadrants two and three, I need more persistence. They had to have driven right through there, so someone had to have seen something. If you knock and you don't get an answer, go back and check again until you do. If anyone gives you a hard time or you see anything suspicious, please call one of my officers immediately. And for anyone who's not quite sure where to go, we've got photographs of Landon and missing person flyers on this table. Please take some and pass out as many as you can."

A sudden hand on James' shoulder made him jump, and he sighed when he realized it was only his mother.

"Again, please keep your eyes open. If anyone sees or hears anything, or has any information, call the department at once. If any of you have any questions, my officers and I are more than happy to help you in any way we can. Thank you again." He stepped off the porch and joined his team once again. The group began murmuring amongst themselves. Some headed in different directions on foot, and others hurried to their vehicles. James turned to face his mother.

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I was gonna take a map. . ."

"I don't want you going out there," Brooke said firmly but quietly.

"Mom-"

"James." Her tone instantly quieted him, as it was clear there was no point in arguing. But despite his fears, it felt wrong not to be out looking. "You can go to the other neighborhoods or pass out flyers, but please don't go out there. Everyone's panicked enough."

"Okay, I won't."

"I want you to take Macey with you," his mother continued. "Gwen's staying here with me today and I don't want to have to pull them apart."

"I thought she came to help."

"Apparently, her definition of help differs from ours. Do you have your phone on you?"

He nodded.

"Good." She placed a loving hand on his cheek before heading towards the front door. "Keep me informed please."

"I will," he answered just as Kendall, Logan, and Carlos exited the house and came towards them. Carlos was slurping cereal from an abnormally large bowl.

"Carlos," Brooke started. "Why is my dishware outside?"

Carlos struggled to form words with his mouth full. "Uh. . . I'b dot – huhchaaaaack!" He sucked in a sudden breath as the cereal caught in his throat and he choked a bit. He coughed harshly a few times before promptly gagging the mouthful back into the bowl.

Brooke grimaced. "It's yours," she said quickly.

Carlos grinned sheepishly up at them as vomity-cereal dribbled down his chin. "Sorry," he mumbled as Logan dug a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to him.

Uncharacteristically, Brooke seemed to brush off the issue. "James," she said, fishing her car keys from her pocket and handing them over with a typical mother look. "Take my car. If I see a scratch on it, no more debit card."

James waited until she'd turned to go back inside before rolling his eyes. "Okay, mom." The other boys moved to follow him to the vehicle.

"Ah-ah-ah," came Brooke's voice from inside the door. Kendall shared a disturbed look with James because she had her back to them and there was no way she could have seen them move. Maybe mothers really did have eyes in the back of their heads. "James, go. You three, I have a very special job for you."

James shot them a sympathetic look as he departed helplessly. "Save us from your psycho mother," Carlos whispered before Logan clapped a hand over his mouth. Brooke came back outside. . . carrying the goat. She promptly deposited it into Kendall's arms and made sure he had a hold of the bright orange leash before stepping back. "Take him," she said, "and keep him out of my hair for a few hours."

The other boys had rarely seen Kendall look so flabbergasted. "B-but. . . we-"

"Thank you, boys," Brooke said with a smile before heading back into the house and firmly shutting the door.

"Wha. . ." Kendall turned to the other two who stood equally as stunned. He locked eyes with the goat as it promptly brayed in his face.

Logan wrinkled his nose. "We can't walk around with that thing all day."

"You wanna go tell her that?" Kendall challenged. He shifted the animal awkwardly in his arms as it started to thrash around. Carlos stepped forward, cooing and rubbing its head. Clifford dipped his head hesitantly into the now close bowl of cereal before beginning to lap up the remains of the milk.

Logan gagged. "Dude, don't let him eat that! You just spit it up!"

Carlos quickly pulled the bowl away. "Whoops," he chuckled. "Sorry, Clifford."

Kendall huffed and set the goat on the ground. It wobbled a bit but eventually stood upright, peering up at them expectantly. Kendall sighed. "Let's go."

* * *

**God bless you guys. Much love. **


	7. A Bird's Eye View

**AN: Hey guys! Here's chapter 6! School's been totally drowning me lately, so I'm sorry for the slow updates. Please bear with me. I also got two new ideas for BTR stories, although it's gonna be ages until one is published. It's gonna be based off what happens in this story, as well as several others after this one. But the other story is about Halloween, so that should totally be up in (hopefully) a few weeks, lol. It all depends on my essay-writing schedule for school (gags). **

**Enjoy! **

**Warning: Talk of eating disorders, possibly self-harm, that kind of stuff. **

winterschild11: They really are! They're great but they're flawed, and that's why I love them. Gwen actually won't be horrible, although I'm afraid I have to make her seem that way for a while. She's probably my favorite OC, to be honest. :)

Guest: Omg, thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy my stories! I can definitely try to throw in some Logan-comforting-James moments if I can. It might not be until the end of the story, but I'll try! :)

* * *

"This is stupid," James spat, dropping the pile of remaining flyers onto the dashboard. They'd elected to take a random neighborhood in quadrant two simply because there were fewer volunteers there and James really wasn't in the mood to chat. He'd parked the car outside of their twentieth-something house and left Macey inside whilst he rang the bell, handed over a flyer, and asked the man if he knew anything. It was the fourth day of the search, and the guy actually had the nerve to _complain _that he had three other flyers and that if he knew anything he'd have said it by now just to get the volunteers out of his hair. James had been a bit moody before then, but now he was genuinely ticked off. He let his back thump against the seat. "Everyone knows everyone here. Handing out these flyers won't make a difference."

In the passenger seat beside him, Macey kept her eyes on her lap and gave no indication she'd heard him. The silence wasn't unusual, but the lack of some sort of response was. Then again, he reasoned, she'd apparently been hiking around in the woods for three days with a bad cold.

"If you feel that bad, I'll just take you home," James offered.

She shook her head. _'I feel fine.' _She didn't look fine, but he wasn't in the mood to argue.

James placed the keys in the ignition and started the car, then turned them back and tossed them aside. He didn't care that they were parked in front of some random guy's house. He didn't feel like driving around and handing out his own brother's missing person flyer anymore.

"Why," he began after a few minutes of awkward silence, "would Dad leave him in the car? How reckless can you be?" Macey shrugged, but her unresponsiveness didn't stop James. "And _why_," he continued, getting angrier as he went, "aren't they treating it like a kidnapping? Why aren't there masses of cops and FBI people and all that? Why are we sending out random volunteers who don't even know what they're doing, and handing out flyers to people who probably weren't even home when it happened?! And _WHY_?!" He slammed his hands on the steering wheel for emphasis as he repeated himself. "Would he leave him alone?!" He breathed hard for a few moments. "He's an idiot."

Macey nodded. _'They can't treat it like an abduction if they don't have a reason to, though. I mean yeah, they took him, but nothing proves it was intentional. So, they're looking for him, but they can only treat it with the same urgency as a carjacking. That's what Mr. G said the first day.' _

"Well, that's stupid."

_'Yeah.' _

James turned to her with a furrowed brow. "Do you think. . ." he hesitated. "You don't think someone followed him, do you? Maybe they meant to take him, and they knew dad had a habit of leaving Landon when he went into stores like that, and they planned it?"

Macey shrugged. _'They could've.' _

"Is there like. . . has Dad had problems with anyone lately? Like, no one's called and asked for money or anything, right? 'Cause I saw that on "Numb3rs" once, where these people took this girl and asked the parents for money but told them not to tell the cops."

_'James, I've literally been at Mom's since it happened. I don't know anything that's going on over there. Mr. Garcia hasn't said anything, so if anyone called, nobody knows except Dad and Nikki." _

"Mom said someone broke in a few weeks ago," James said.

_'Yeah.' _

". . .You didn't tell me that."

_'Dad told me not to tell people.' _

He failed to hide the hurt from his voice. "I'm not people; I'm his _son._"

_'And he said not to tell you,' _she signed dismissively. _'He probably just didn't want to worry you, that's all.' _

"Well, did you see anything?"

Macey shook her head. _'None of us saw anything. They didn't even come inside, they just busted the front window and ran off. Mr. G thinks it was some kids goofing off.' _

James let his head thump against the seat as he sighed and thought for a moment. "Has he ticked anyone off lately?"

_'Why do you think I know?' _Macey suddenly snapped. _'Mr. Garcia asked us this stuff a hundred times, James. I don't know anything, and I don't wanna think about this anymore.' _

"You don't need to bite my head off," James both signed and said for emphasis. He was turned in the driver's seat to face her, and it was quite uncomfortable trying to sign with his shoulder pressed into the cushion. "I wasn't here, okay? You were. I know Landon ticks us off, but he's our _brother_, and I _really _don't want to end up burying him so _think harder._"

His tone effectively seemed to squelch her attitude, and she sat back in her seat for a moment before signing, _'It wouldn't make sense.' _

"What wouldn't?"

She shook her head. _'The only person's he's ticked off lately is Nikki. And Nikki dotes on Landon. She's annoying and rude but she's never laid a hand on him. She wouldn't hurt him.' _

"Why is she ticked?"

_ '. . .I think she wants a divorce.' _

If the situation weren't so serious, James might have laughed. He wouldn't have felt a bit bad about it either, considering his father's second marriage was built on an affair and was a complete disaster from the get-go. He chose Nikki over his real family. James wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt if the marriage failed. "Did he cheat?" he spat, not because he felt particularly bad for Nikki but because he would have figured Andrew Diamond had learned the first time.

Macey shook her head again. _'No. I mean, I haven't heard her say that. She hasn't said anything, really. She just screams at him and says he's a bad husband and all this stuff. She blew up at him about the break-in like it was his fault. And she freaked out the other night too.' _

"What happened the other night?"

_'. . .Nothing. It was the day before. . . everything went down. He just went out to dinner with two guys and brought them home and she lost it. She wouldn't even let them in. They just left and then she flipped out at him.' _

"Who were they?"

_'Dad said they were just some guys he was working out an exhibit deal with.' _

"Maybe they gave her a bad vibe," James suggested.

_'James, they're museum people.' _

"And they can still be psycho." James rolled his eyes and a bit a resisted the urge to chuckle. His sister had entirely too much faith in learned people. "Do you know where they went for dinner?" he asked, grabbing the keys and turning them in the ignition. The car rumbled to life.

_'Dad said Shorty's.' _

James stepped on the gas. "Let's go."

* * *

Once, during a very bad argument, Kendall's mother had called him bipolar. They joked about it later, and he knew she hadn't meant it, but it hurt because he knew, in a way, it was true. When he was with his friends, he was almost as level-headed as Logan. They counted on him for leadership and advice and almost every what-to-do situation they were faced with during their days. And for the most part, save for a few instances of reckless spontaneity, he managed to keep his cool and help them in mostly sensible ways. But left to manage himself, he had an incredibly short fuse which was the cause of an insane amount of guilt as he grew older. He flipped out over things that seemed trivial to most people, and he had very little patience.

That patience, already abnormally short for an 18-year-old, was now dangerously close to wearing thin.

They'd been handed a map by one of the volunteers and were instructed to help search the developments towards the north of town. It was directly east of the 7/11 where Landon was last seen, and it was an incredibly long walk from Brooke Diamond's house. And of course, Carlos wanted the goat, but he didn't want to _walk _the goat. It had tripped Logan twice and the shorter boy was now sporting two nicely road-rashed palms, so the burden had fallen on Kendall. But Clifford was nearly impossible to walk. He tangled the leash around Kendall's legs and jumped right on top of his feet and hopped directly into his path every chance he got. Kendall sincerely hoped the boys would warn him if he were about to walk into a pole or something, because he couldn't take his eyes off Clifford for fear he'd go sprawling across the pavement as Logan did. Finally, after a particularly bad stumble in which the blonde had nearly lost his footing, he'd had it.

"Oh my gosh, can you WALK NORMALLY?!" he shouted down at the goat. Clifford brayed weakly, swayed, then collapsed to the ground, legs straight out and body stiff as a board.

Carlos gasped at a frequency Kendall thought only dogs should be able to hear. "YOU KILLED HIM!" he squealed, dropping to his knees and feeling along Clifford's neck for a pulse.

"I didn't kill him!" Kendall cried defensively. "He's just. . . doing that thing goats do in videos to make you think they're funny. He's just faking it, right Logan?"

Logan winced. "I think you might have killed him."

"Thank you, Eeyore," Kendall deadpanned. "Your optimism is really uplifting." He turned back to see Carlos doing compressions and trying to revive the goat. He nudged its rump gently with his foot. "Clifford? Loge, is he actually dead?"

Logan sighed and bent down, studying the animal. "I can't tell if he's breathing. Hang on a sec, 'Litos," he said, gently pushing his friend away. He bent low and close to Clifford's face, floating a hand over his nose.

The shorter boy glared up at Kendall. "Good job, _goat-killer._"

"I didn't kill him!"

Clifford suddenly brayed at the top of his lungs, scaring poor Logan half to death and sending him flying back to land on his already suffering hands. The goat popped up just as Carlos cried out in delight and reached over to hug it. Kendall could swear the animal was grinning at the ruckus it'd caused.

"Aw, Cliffy," Carlos was crying. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You've known him for eighteen hours," Logan groaned as he stood and gingerly wiped his hands on his jeans.

"And I already feel a connection."

"Okay," Kendall said firmly, pulling Carlos to his feet and wrapping Clifford's leash tightly around his hand. "Let's keep going. We're wasting time."

The three set off again, and Kendall was focused solely on not tripping over what he considered deeming the walking iceberg that sunk the Titanic. He was so engrossed that Carlo's question caught him off guard and nearly caused him to stumble without the help of the goat.

"Do you think Landon's dead?"

He probably shouldn't have been so stunned; he was thinking the same thing, and he'd assumed the others were too. He just hadn't really intended to say it out loud.

"Carlos. . . you can't say stuff like that in front of James and his family, okay?"

Carlos looked a bit annoyed at that remark. "Yeah, I _know _that. And I wouldn't. I just. . . _do you_?"

Kendall looked hesitantly to Logan, only to realize that the younger boy was staring at him almost as expectantly as Carlos. Mentally berating his friends for putting him in such a position, he tugged on Clifford's leash and began walking again. "Guys, we barely know anything that's going on. We can't freak ourselves out by saying stuff like that when we don't have all the facts." He could see Logan nod mutually out of the corner of his eye, and Carlos hummed quietly in agreement, although neither sounded particularly reassured. Kendall's statement had done nothing to reassure himself, either.

They walked in silence for a few blocks until Logan stopped suddenly and focused on something ahead of them. It only took Kendall a moment to realize they were across the street from the 7/11 at the edge of town. A road east led to the neighborhood they were supposed to be searching.

"Do you think we should go in there?" Logan asked quietly.

"And do what?" Kendall asked.

". . .Like, just ask what happened."

Carlos shrugged. "I'm sure my dad and his guys already did that."

"Yeah," Logan said. "But they didn't tell us anything, really. It won't hurt to ask, and it might help us, you know?"

Kendall nodded. "It can't hurt," he repeated to Carlos, who promptly nodded. They looked both ways before crossing the street and heading for the building.

Logan stopped just before they entered and glanced at the goat. "We probably can't take that in there."

Kendall huffed before quickly grabbing the animal and dumping it in Carlos' arms. "Stay here," he said firmly, ignoring the sound of protest from his friend. "Hey, you like him so much, you keep him company," he called over his shoulder as he and Logan pushed through the entrance door.

It was still only seven something in the morning, so the parking lot, as well as the store, was completely deserted. Only Carlos had managed to grab breakfast, so the boys almost immediately began to wander through the food aisles, Logan grabbing some sort of half-healthy breakfast bar for himself as well as a pack of fruit gummies for Carlos (because despite having eaten earlier, the younger boy would still whine if he wasn't brought anything). Kendall mulled over the choices of a to-go bowl of dry cereal and a bagel before he inwardly cursed.

Only Carlos had eaten breakfast. Which meant _James _hadn't eaten breakfast.

It honestly wasn't Kendall's intent to shove food down James' throat three times a day, but though he would never admit it, he was _petrified_. After observing James for the past few weeks, it was clear that the problem wasn't going to vanish anytime soon. They had to pretty much put the food in front of him to begin with, and it took him twice the time to finish than it had previously. Kendall worried that allowing him to skip a meal or turn down food would only drag the situation out even further, and James had made it overly clear that he didn't want counseling.

Add all of that to the fact that none of the parents, including Mrs. Knight, knew what was going on, and Kendall was thoroughly exhausted from worrying. It was hard for him to question James' eating habits in L.A., let alone now when they would be in front of Mrs. Diamond, who was clueless. James had made it clear he didn't want her to know, and while Kendall understood that, it only made the situation all the more difficult.

Grumbling with the knowledge that he'd failed his friend, he reluctantly grabbed the bagel and followed Logan to the check-out counter. The counter was bare save for a small bell, and Logan hesitantly pressed the top. Almost immediately, a man popped his head out of a small room behind the register. He sobered considerably upon seeing the two.

"Heya, boys," Kevin Beck, a white-haired man in his early sixties said with a drawl. He gave them a sympathetic smile. "Long time no see, eh?"

Kendall was silent. Logan returned the smile. "Uh, yeah," he said a bit somberly, setting his items on the counter. Kendall did the same.

Mr. Beck slowly began ringing up the items, and Logan handed over his debit card. "How's, uh. . . how's it going over there?" Mr. Beck asked, swiping the card through the machine.

Kendall shrugged.

"How're Andrew and Nikki?"

Logan mimicked Kendall's shrug. "Um. . . 'bout as well as you'd expect." He found his eyes lingering toward the door they came in until Kendall suddenly nudged his arm. Mr. Beck was holding the card and receipt out to him. "Oh," he started, pocketing the items and grabbing his food. He looked hesitantly back at the window and then to Mr. Beck. "Did you see it happen?"

Mr. Beck's face became, if possible, even more solemn. He shook his head. "Nah. Andy sure did though. He was up here talkin' to me and went tearin' out there, yellin' for me to call the cops." He hesitated. "You know, I ain't a parent so I can't judge, but he did that all the time with that kid. I figured something was gonna happen sooner or later."

"He left him alone a lot?" Kendall asked.

Mr. Beck nodded and gestured to the door. "He parked in that first space there, but it didn't matter none. He couldn't get there fast enough." He gave them another somber smile. "You boys tell 'em all over there that I'm prayin' for 'em, ya hear?"

Kendall returned the smile. "We will. Thanks." He grabbed his bagel as well as Carlos' snack and turned to Logan, who was again focusing on the door as Mr. Beck returned to the back room. "What's up?"

The shorter boy shook his head. "I'm just thinking."

"About?"

Logan sighed heavily. "You can't see that parking space from here," he said a bit quizzically. Kendall experimentally turned to his left and eyed the glass exit. "If Mr. D was standing right here," Logan continued, "how did he see someone take the car? The windows are way too high, and you can't see that space through the door."

Kendall shrugged, heading towards the door. "Maybe he wasn't exactly here. Or maybe he heard the car start or something."

"Yeah. . ."

A bit puzzled, the two headed back outside. Carlos was perched on the curb with Clifford in his lap. The goat appeared to be asleep, and Kendall rolled his eyes. He clicked his tongue and tossed the fruit gummies to his friend. Carlos eagerly ripped the bag open. "You two sleuth?" he asked, shoving a few pieces in his mouth.

Kendall slowly pulled apart the saran wrap covering his bagel. "Uh, yeah, sorta."

"What'd you find out?"

The blond-haired boy took a bite of his food. "That the car was taken from this parking lot," he sputtered through his chewing.

"Wow, nice job, Watson."

Kendall opened his mouth to show his half-chewed pastry, and Carlos gagged before sending him a light glare. He shoved a few more gummies into his mouth and turned to face forward once more, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Logan, whatchu doin'?" he called, eyeing his friend who was now at the other side of the parking lot and close to the road.

Logan turned to face them, hands on his hips. "Which way did your dad say that car went?"

Kendall nodded towards town. "South. Why?"

The other boy didn't answer, instead crossing the short distance between them in several strides. When he was closer, he spoke in a low voice. "If you were gonna highjack a car, what would you do?"

Carlos practically spat out his food as a wide grin lit up his face. "We're high jacking a car?!" he shouted, so suddenly that Clifford tumbled off his lap and landed on the macadam in a heap.

Kendall scoffed. "You yell at me for killing him and then you do the same thing?" He gestured to the goat, now stiff as a board once more on the ground.

"We're not high jacking a car," Logan said firmly. "But if we _were_, what would you do?"

Carlos raised his hand. Logan couldn't resist the sigh that escaped him. "Carlos?"

"Go to Burger King," he answered automatically.

Logan hesitated. "_Okay. . ._um-" Kendall raised his hand. "Kendall?"

"Is this a theoretical question, or are we actually going to highjack a car? 'Cause I can hotwire-"

"We're _NOT _high jacking a car!" Logan cried. "_But _if you _were_, where would you go first?"

"Oh," Kendall mused. "Well, away? Like, as in away from the place where you took it."

Logan nodded. "Yeah. And where did Mr. D say the car went?"

"Into town," Carlos answered.

Logan gave them an incredulous look. "Yeah. That doesn't make any sense."

Kendall didn't look dismissive, but he was clearly uneasy. "Are you saying Mr. Diamond lied?"

"No no," Logan said quickly. "But I think he was freaked out and in a rush and he might not have been thinking straight. And Mr. Beck said he was all the way up at the counter with him. So, either the car was already moving when he saw it or he heard it start. Either way, those guys were probably on the road by the time he got out the door. It might not have even been _his _car that he saw. There are tons of SUVs here."

Carlos hesitantly moved to grab his cell phone from his pocket. "Should I call my dad?"

Logan shook his head. "No, I'm just guessing."

"But It's a valid guess," Kendall pointed out. "It's not impossible. And if they didn't go the way everyone thinks they went, they could be anywhere by now." He eyed the road warily. "If they took that car and realized there was a kid in the back, they probably freaked out, you know?"

Carlos nodded. "Well, yeah. Kidnapping's a lot worse than car theft, even if they didn't mean to."

"So, they probably booked it," Logan continued. "And honestly. . . they probably left Landon somewhere. Like, I don't think they'd hurt him, 'cause those charges would be even worse. But they probably left him somewhere so they wouldn't get in any more trouble."

Kendall looked worriedly between them. "Let's walk that road," he said, gesturing to the path that led north away from town. "They could've sped off that way, and there are some houses down there. Maybe they left Landon around there, and those people just haven't heard what's going on, ya know?"

Logan nodded. "It's worth a shot." They quickly crossed the parking lot and Carlos followed, a now revived Clifford trotting along beside him.

"Guys, I feel like we're on Dateline," he mused with a grin.

"Uh, we're not Dateline," Kendall scoffed. "We're literally going off a hunch because I just really don't want to hand out flyers in random neighborhoods."

"Me neither," Logan agreed. "Plus the girls from our old school are kinda scary now."

Carlos cringed. "Yeah. Remember last time we came home? They slept on my front lawn."

The others shivered. Yep, the road was definitely a better option.

* * *

**AN: Shorty is a friend of the Diamonds. He owns a restaurant of the same name. That's not a spoiler, but I just thought I'd point that out in case anyone was confused by the first section, lol. I know I didn't elaborate much. **

**Please keep me in your prayers, and I'll keep you all in mine. **

**God bless you. Much love. **

**P.S. If anyone is having a tough time. . . Can we all get through another week? In the words of Mabel Pines, **

**Yes**

**Definitely **

**Absolutely **


	8. Tracks

**10/25/19**

**AN: This took way too long to come out, I'm so sorry guys. My schedule's nuts but hopefully I can really sit down and write in the next few weeks. I'm trying to focus on my Halloween challenge story but homework isn't making it easy, lol. Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

winterschild11: Yes, haha. Someone finally started taking things seriously. Thank you for the review!

Guest: Wow, thank you so much for the compliment! I'm glad you like this story! As far as length, I'm really not sure yet. Definitely at least twenty chapters, probably more. I need to make better outlines, lol. Thank you for the review!

**Warning: Talk of eating disorders, purging, etc. **

* * *

Shorty Giannotti was a man who took the term "midget" in stride.

He was under four feet tall and he milked it for all it was worth. He laughed at the snide comments and chuckled at the odd looks. Heck, he'd nicknamed himself with his old elementary school moniker. Haters were gonna hate, so he might as well use their ammo for his own benefit.

He'd moved from New York to Minnesota nearly ten years before, in the hopes of opening his own diner, and he was nothing short of successful. There wasn't a person in town who didn't love him, and the foursome now known as Big Time Rush had held a special place in his heart from the first day he'd met them. They'd warmed up to him and his self-deprecating, mischievous nature almost immediately since they themselves also had quite the reputation, and he returned their kindness with only the best customer service to them and their families.

And not to toot his own horn, but his food was the bomb.

His diner was small and situated not far from the southern edge of town. James parked the car a bit haphazardly in the adjacent parking lot, and he and Macey entered and took their usual places at the counter. It was relatively empty save for a few booths since it was only eight something in the morning, and although he typically loved crowds, James was glad for the quiet. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

A sudden hand clap on his back nearly made him jump out of his skin. "Heya, Hair! How ya doin'?"

James pressed a hand to his chest as Shorty hurried around the counter and up the steps of the area behind it. "I was fine until you did that," he chuckled.

Shorty laughed heartily. "All that music stuff's made you soft," he teased, slapping him on the shoulder. He turned to Macey. "What's new with you, Hand Jive? I don't see you around here lately."

James looked on amusedly as Macey flashed the best smile she could manage, then opted for a thumbs up instead. Shorty was probably the only person on earth allowed to call her Hand Jive. A kid in middle school had called her that in front of James once, and Shorty had somehow convinced him not to bust the kid's face in. Kids called him Shorty all the time during his youth, he told them, and now it was his name. It gave bullies "less power over you" or something cheesy like that. And the man had dubbed Macey as Hand Jive from that day on. James knew he meant well.

"What can I do ya for?" Shorty asked, pulling James from his thoughts. "How's your dad holdin' up?"

Shorty hadn't asked the question nearly as somberly as half the people James had spoken to that day, but it sobered him considerably none the less. "Um. . . he's okay." He sent a hesitant glance to Macey before turning back. "We, uh. . . we wanted to ask you something about him, actually. He was in here like, four days ago with two guys. Did you see them?"

Shorty's brow furrowed. "Guys, your dad ain't been here for weeks," he said.

"Are you sure?" James asked. "Were you here that night?"

He nodded. "Oh, yeah. I was short on waitstaff that day too, so I was out workin' the floor. Trust me, he wasn't here."

"Who wasn't here?" a voice came from behind them. One of Shorty's busboys, Mike, James thought his name was, came into their line of sight and leaned on the counter, clutching a towel in his hand.

"Our dad," James answered. "We thought he was here Thursday night."

"Oh, nah man, he was at Mokey's," Mike answered, referring to a relatively new bar and grille a few blocks away. "I saw him coming in on my way out."

Shorty sent him a glare. "Ah, so you were at Mokey's when I tried to call you in?"

Mike must have been caught in a lie because he suddenly flashed the sweetest grin he could muster and began hastily scrubbing the counter, even though it was clean. "Uh. . . yeah, it was an emergency."

"Oh, yeah an emergency," Shorty mocked, grabbing the towel and snapping it at Mike, who ducked and hurried into the back kitchen with a chuckle. Shorty shook his head. "Next time ya don't wanna come in when we're shorthanded, I'm takin' it outta your pay!"

"Hey!"

He turned back to James and Macey with a sigh, although he was clearly joking. "That solve your problem?"

"Uh," James started hesitantly. "Yeah. Thanks, Shorty." He slid off the stool, and Macey moved to do the same.

"Hey hey hey!" Shorty said, stopping them. "Take some drinks for you and the boys, on the house."

An anvil seemed to plunge to the bottom of James' stomach. "Oh, uh," he stammered. "W-we're good, thanks."

"Aw, come on," Shorty grumbled teasingly, already stepping behind the counter to the ice cream machines and grabbing several plastic cups. "You never pass up one of my coffees."

James' brain screamed at him to just shut up and accept the drinks, otherwise Shorty or Macey would likely question him and that was the last thing he needed. But he kept going. "Uh, yeah, I'm just not really thirsty today, and we won't even see the guys for a while, 'cause they're-"

Almost inhumanly fast, Shorty set several finished drinks on the counter in front of him, each according to the guys' own preferences. "There ya go. On the house."

"Shorty, you don't have to do that," James protested. "I can pay."

"You kiddin'? I never see you guys no more. 'S the least I can do."

James looked ready to protest again until Macey grabbed a notepad from her pocket and hastily scribbled, _'We'll just take them to go,' _and held the paper out to Shorty. James resisted sending her a harsh look.

"See? She's smart," Shorty teased, pulling out two cardboard cup holders from behind the counter and organizing the drinks in them. He tucked a handful of straws in between the cups. "She knows I'm stubborn."

"I'm stubborn too," James said, trying in vain to plaster a smirk on his face. Shorty shoved the carriers into his hands, and James again felt that awful anvil-like weight settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah," Shorty agreed. "But like I said, all that music stuff's made ya soft." He patted James' shoulder again and gave the two a somber smile. "You tell your folks that I'm prayin' for 'em, all right? I'm gonna try to help out tonight if all _my guys show up_!" He loudly directed the last part towards the kitchen doorway Mike had passed through, although his face told them he wasn't nearly as angry as he sounded. He gave them one more smile before departing into the kitchen himself.

"Here," James said, shoving the lighter carrier into Macey's arms and heading for the door. It took nearly all of his willpower not to dump his iced coffee in the trashcan by the door as they exited the diner and walked to the car. They carefully set the drinks on the center console between them as they buckled their seatbelts. James sat back in his seat with a serious look. "You're sure he said he was here?" he asked.

Macey nodded.

"You sure you didn't like, mishear him or something?"

Her eyes narrowed a bit as she plunged a straw into her drink. _'No. I'm not five, and Dad wouldn't lie. Maybe he was supposed to go here, and they chose Mokey's last minute.' _

James sighed and stuck the keys in the ignition. "Then let's head over there. Maybe they saw him." Macey nudged his arm and extended his own drink towards him, now complete with a straw. He shook his head casually. "Nah."

He flipped the car into reverse and prepared to back out when Macey tapped the steering wheel to get his attention. "What?" he asked, turning to her.

_'Why not?' _she signed, looking at him a bit too seriously for his liking.

James scoffed. "Maybe 'cause I don't want it right now? What is your issue? You're in a mood and it's getting on my nerves."

_'What's my issue?' _she repeated a bit incredulously. _'Gee, I don't know. Landon might be _dead_, mom and dad are at each other's' throats and we're right in the middle of it, I'm stuck doing all of dad's paperwork so he doesn't fall behind, and you-' _she stopped abruptly, seeming to catch herself before she shook her head and signed, _'Nevermind.' _

_'What?' _James signed back, interrupting her when she only repeated herself. _'No, what?' _

Macey hesitated, then held the drink back out to him. _'I just . . . you didn't have breakfast, and I really think you should drink this coffee.' _

The realization hit James like a ton of bricks, and he knew it just from the look on her face. She knew, he was positive of it. He'd expressly told the guys he didn't want any of his family finding out about his recent . . . problems, but clearly his words had fallen on deaf ears. He fixed Macey with a look that could kill, and she quickly set the drink back in the carrier and let her eyes settle on her lap.

James locked the car back into park and nudged his sister's shoulder to get her attention. _'Who have you been talking to?' _

_'No one.' _

_'Macey.'_

She hesitated and avoided his eyes as she answered. _'It was Kendall, please don't be mad!' _she signed quickly.

_ 'Are you kidding me?!' _

_'It wasn't his fault, it was mine! I hadn't heard from you in days and when I finally did you sounded upset and I texted Kendall. If it makes you feel any better, he really didn't want to tell me. It took me almost an hour to pry it out of him.'_

James said nothing as he ran a hand nervously across his face. He couldn't help the feeling of utter betrayal that came over him. Kendall, who he'd literally confided almost everything to since kindergarten, ratted him out just like that? What other things that James told him in confidence had been spread to their circle? And of course, Macey knowing meant that their _mother _was one step closer to finding out, and that would absolutely _not _help him in any way.

_'I won't tell,' _Macey continued, _'if you promise to get help when you go back.' _

_'I don't need help,' _James snapped.

_'Dude, you're freaking out over an iced coffee! That means you need help!' _

A man walking by their car stopped directly in front of them and stared in confusion as they signed. He caught James' eye, and the teenager quickly rolled down the window. "Do you have a problem?" The man quickly shook his head and hurried into the diner, and James rolled the window up, yanking the switch upwards a bit harder than necessary. He put the car back into reverse, and Macey reached over and promptly swiped the keys from the ignition.

"Dude!" James cried, grabbing at the keys and missing as Macey held them back. "We're not talking about this."

_'Yeah, we are! This isn't funny, this is serious, James.' _

"No, it's not," James said firmly. "Give me the keys back."

Macey glared at him and kept the keys out of his reach. _'If it's not serious,' _she began, _'take a sip of that drink without shoving your fingers down your throat.' _If looks could kill, she was certain she'd be dead but at the moment, she didn't really care.

James grabbed the drink from the carrier and pressed the straw to his lips. He took the smallest sip he could manage and shot it back to his throat, swallowing immediately in an effort to avoid the taste. Still, a familiar lump of anxiety rose in the pit of his stomach the moment the empty calories went down his throat. _Pure sugar and carlories, that was all it was. Pure **fat**_. Setting the drink back down, he grimaced painfully and hoped his sister didn't notice. "Happy?" he snapped. Macey reluctantly held out the keys, and he quickly took them and slid them back into the ignition. "Now, get off my back, would you?"

The comment promptly shut Macey up, and she leaned back in the seat and crossed her arms as James slowly pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"Don't tell mom," James said quietly after a few moments of silence. He turned to face her when she began to sign.

_'I won't.'_

* * *

"Twenty-eight bottles of milk on the wall, twenty-eight bottles of milk, take one down, pass it around-"

"Ew, dude think of the germs."

Carlos glared at Logan as the brunette visibly cringed at the lyrics. "I've been singing for almost an hour, Logan. The other seventy-something lines weren't any less germy."

"Could you please sing something else?" Kendall begged. He stumbled as Clifford trotted directly into his path and brayed up at him smugly.

"Or we can just not sing," Logan suggested, "and focus on looking for anything."

Carlos stared at him blankly for a moment, then began nearly screaming at the top of his lungs, "BABY, BABY BABY OHHHHH, LIKE BABY, BABY, BABY-"

"NO!" Kendall shouted, covering his ears until Carlos quickly quieted. "Guys, if we're not gonna do anything productive out here, then we should go back to town and actually help." That wasn't entirely true. They had spoken to a few people who lived quite a ways out of town and asked them if they knew anything. They didn't, but at least the boys had tried. "This really isn't funny. Landon's been gone four days. Isn't there some kind of thing that says if it's been over 48 hours, it's usually a bad sign?"

Carlos nodded. "Yeah."

Logan agreed. "We should head back anyway," he said firmly. "We're like three miles out and my cell service is getting wonky. I don't want to get stuck out here."

"Then let's go," Kendall said, promptly turning around as the other guys followed his lead. Clifford suddenly wandered off the path and into the brush, and Kendall groaned as he was dragged along with him by the leash.

Carlos' eyes grew wide. "Dude, what if he's like a tracker dog?" he proposed excitedly.

Kendall rolled his eyes from where he now stood beside a bush. "He's peeing," he responded, chuckling when Carlos' face fell. He awkwardly averted his eyes as Clifford finished his business, and moved to head back to the road when he stopped. "Guys, there's tire tracks down here," he called.

Carlos and Logan's chatter stopped abruptly, and they stepped carefully down the hill to where Kendall stood. Indeed, there were large, clear tire tracks mashed into the dirt. They continued through the brush and out of sight. "This is private property," Logan said quickly, gesturing to a "No Trespassing" sign staked in the ground a few feet away.

Kendall shrugged. "There's no one here," he said, looking around.

"Do you think someone crashed?" Carlos asked, eyes suddenly serious with worry.

Logan hiked back up the short hill to survey the roadway. "I mean, it doesn't look like anyone swerved." He hurried back to them, nearly tripping over a patch of loose soil. "Should we call your dad anyway?" he asked, looking to Carlos.

The shorter boy looked uneasy. "But . . . this isn't about Landon. I don't want to bother him. Should we call 9-1-1?"

"And say what?" Kendall asked. "It could be someone just driving on their own property."

They fell silent for a moment, unsure of how to proceed until Logan suddenly broke off and began to head into the wooded area. "I'm gonna follow them," he announced, gesturing to the tracks.

"Uh, what happened to no trespassing?" Kendall called. Logan gave no answer, instead focusing on his footing. The ground was littered with tree roots and uneven patches of dirt. He'd buckle an ankle if he wasn't careful.

Carlos suddenly shrugged. "I'll go too," he said, hurrying to catch up with Logan. Kendall groaned inwardly and glared after them. On the ground, Clifford tugged at the leash in the direction the two had gone. With a sigh, Kendall reluctantly headed after them.

"Hey, wait up!"

* * *

He wasn't even sure how far they walked. It was still early in the day, so they weren't particularly concerned with how long they were out; it wouldn't be getting dark anytime soon. But the ground was terrible and uneven, and the tire tracks they were following seemed to go on endlessly, and soon Logan began to wonder if maybe it really was just some person driving on their own property. Surely someone who ran off the road unintentionally would have been able to stop their car by now. They'd been walking at least fifteen minutes, if not more, calling out to see if anyone answered. No one did

They had almost unanimously decided to turn back when he saw it.

He didn't know what he expected. He thought they would come across a mangled mess of a car given how deep into the trees they were; there was no way anyone could have possibly driven through the area and kept their car intact, especially not if, God forbid, they really had swerved off the road by accident. But what he did not expect to see was a _red SUV _concealed haphazardly by a few large trees maybe only a football field away.

Kendall and Carlos must have realized he wasn't behind him because he heard them turn. "Logan, wh-" Kendall trailed off, and Logan knew they had seen the car as well. He didn't even realize he was moving until he was barely two yards from the car, Kendall's footsteps thundering right behind him. He could hear Carlos a little further back, voice uneven and shaky as he ran and spoke nervously into his cellphone. "No, dad," he was saying. "We're . . . I don't even know. We were on Highway 27 and we saw tracks like someone had gone off the road, and we followed, and I think we found Mr. D's car. I don't know, it- Guys, wait! Don't touch it!"

His plea fell on deaf ears as Logan skidded awkwardly to a stop by the back door on the driver's side and hesitated. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he found himself unable to lift a hand to open the door. He was afraid of what he would find.

Suddenly, Kendall stopped beside him and with no reservations, yanked open the door so powerfully that Logan was sure the handle had been dislodged. The blonde stuck his head out a moment later and shook it. "He's not here. Check the front." He slammed the door closed and moved to the back of the car, and Logan realized with horror that he was checking the trunk as well. A quick peak through the front window showed him that that portion of the car was deserted as well. He hurried to join Kendall and now Carlos, who still had his cellphone pressed to his ear, at the trunk. Logan could hear Mr. Garcia through the phone, asking Carlos if he was still there. All of the boys remained silent, however, as Kendall slowly undid the trunk's latch and began to lift the door.

Logan held his breath.

* * *

**AN: That was such a mean cliffhanger, I'm so sorry. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, though. Please review!**

**God bless and much love, **

**-downtonabbey15**


	9. Matters of Blood

**11/20/19 **

**AN: Hey guys! Here's a new chapter! I think this came out a bit quicker than last time. . . hopefully, lol. I'm trying to squeeze more time in to write, so hopefully I can get these chapters up sooner (as well as update that poor, hopeless Halloween story that I seem to have abandoned, haha). **

**WARNINGS: Mentions of eating disorder.**

* * *

James would never admit it, but he was what Logan would call a "distracted driver." Either Logan or Kendall usually drove them to rehearsals if Gustavo didn't send a driver, so it was rare for James to put his license to use at all. But on the rare occasion he did drive, he was known for glancing at his cellphone or reading a text when he was at a stop sign or a red light. Logan had seen him do it once and was genuinely _angry _with him for the remainder of the day, pointedly stating that James could easily kill a child or another person with his carelessness. And James agreed with him, to a point. He never used his phone while the car was moving, only when he was stopped and his foot was on the brake and he was absolutely _not _pressing the gas pedal. It really wasn't so bad. He didn't even like _talking _on the phone while trying to drive, because he felt it really hindered his concentration.

Of course, when his cell phone rang as he pulled out of the parking lot of Mokey's Bar, he really had no choice but to stop the car in the middle of the exit ramp and answer. Handing it to Macey was absolutely pointless, unfortunately. He flicked the device open as Macey sent him an odd look. _'"Victorious?"' _she signed, referencing his ringtone. _'Really?' _

James rolled his eyes. "Hello?" he said quickly, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Hey," came Gwen's voice through the phone, and James quickly switched the call to speaker so Macey could hear. "Where are you guys?"

"Uh, we're at Mokey's," James answered uncertainly, setting the phone on the center counsel beside the milkshakes and pulling out onto the road.

Gwen "oooh'd" before chuckling. "You went for a drink and you didn't invite me?"

James huffed. "We weren't drinking, we wanted to talk to them but they're closed. What do you want, Gwen?"

"Hey, your friend's cop dad just called. They found dad's car."

James was so startled he slammed down hard on the breaks. He shot an arm out in front of Macey to keep her from careening headfirst into the dashboard, and his cellphone tumbled to the floor with a thump. A large truck behind them laid on the horn as it was forced to stop as well. The vehicle didn't hesitate to swerve around their own car and pass them quickly, despite the fact that they were on a single lane road with double yellow lines. James ignored the obscene gesture the driver sent out his window as he bent to pick up his phone from the floor.

"James?" came Gwen's voice nonchalantly from the phone. "Are you guys alive?"

"Yes," James scoffed. "We're _alive. _What do you mean they found the car? Where's Landon?"

"He's not there, I don't think," Gwen answered. "The cop guy called Mom and asked her to come, but she can't. I'm on my way there now."

"Where?"

"They're on that road north of the 7/11. Like, a couple of miles out of town, I think."

"Okay, we're on our way." James flicked the phone shut and tossed it into a cupholder before promptly flooring the car.

* * *

The scene was absolutely chaotic.

James had worried that he'd somehow miss the spot Gwen had told him, but he could see it was impossible. He brought his mother's car to a swift halt on the right side of the road and was up and out of the vehicle before he'd even taken the keys from the ignition. Four squad cars in addition to Mr. Garcia's littered the roadway, and cones blocked the area leading further out of town. Bright yellow caution tape started at the tire tracks in the ditch and trailed off out of sight, although the boys knew it also encircled the area around Andrew Diamond's SUV. Mr. Garcia was exiting the brush with Andrew and Gwen by his side, talking quickly but quietly into his walkie talkie. Andrew was silent and pale as a sheet as he followed his friend. Kendall, Logan, and Carlos huddled close to Mr. Garcia's patrol car. James resisted his first instinct to run to his friends and hurried towards the brush.

Mr. Garcia held up a hand as James approached. "James, don't," he said firmly. "Stay up here." He veered towards his patrol car, speaking rapidly into the walkie talkie.

Gwen ignored James completely as she crested the hill, instead moving towards Macey as she exited the car. Andrew came slowly forward, and James met him halfway, his heart hammering in his chest. "They didn't find him?" he stammered.

His heart sank when Andrew shook his head. "No," he muttered quietly, running a shaking hand through his hair. After a moment, he met James' eyes uneasily. "You know, I . . . I never got to talk to you last night. Thank you for comin' out here, Jamie. You didn't have to."

". . .Did you think I wouldn't?" James asked quietly.

His father carefully avoided his eyes. "I know how you kids feel about Nikki and Landon. And I get that, but. . ."

James shook his head. "Landon's blood. It doesn't matter what I feel about him and Nikki. I want him _safe_."

Andrew opened his mouth to speak but remained silent, instead biting his lip as tears seemed to gather in his eyes.

"We're gonna find him," James continued.

His father ran a hand across his face and sniffed. "Garcia's calling in the dogs," he said softly. James' stomach dropped because that couldn't be a good thing. "There's footprints and tire tracks that go way past the truck. He thinks they might have ditched our car and taken Landon in another vehicle."

"Andy," Mr. Garcia called from the other side of the road. He motioned him over as he pressed his cell phone to his ear with his other hand. Andrew gave a small nod to James and headed across the road. James followed him distantly but broke off near the front of the patrol car to join his friends, who stood in an apprehensive huddle.

"Did you guys find it?" he asked, trying to temporarily set aside his anger towards Kendall and looking him directly in the eye.

Kendall nodded mutely, looking uncharacteristically shaken up. "We saw tire marks, and we thought someone crashed, so we followed them, but. . . What did your dad say? They won't tell us anything."

"He said they found other tracks past the car," James answered. He glanced at Carlos. "He's calling for the dogs." Unable to contain himself, he shot Kendall a brief glare before turning as Mr. Garcia called out to them.

"Boys," he said as he approached, leaving Andrew alone with another officer and waving to Gwen and Macey across the road to join them. He waited until they'd reached them before he spoke. "I called your mother," he said to James. "I want you all-"

James interrupted him. "I want to go with you."

Mr. Garcia shook his head without even a thought. "No."

"Why?" He didn't have to ask why, in all honesty. The look on the policeman's face said it all. It was likely they were going to find Landon's body and he didn't want James to see it.

"Because I said so," was what Mr. Garcia settled for instead.

"But-"

"What are you gonna do?" Gwen suddenly interjected. "Walk around in bear pee all night?"

James gave her a look that could kill. "I'm gonna _help_ like you should. What have _you _been doing all day?"

"I was busy," she argued, taking a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and sticking one in between her teeth.

"Oh, yeah. _Busy_."

"Kids," Mr. Garcia continued. "Go home."

"Dad, we can help," Carlos started. "We won't get in the way."

"_Carlos, go home_," his father repeated in a tone that signaled the end of the discussion.

Gwen snorted as she lit her cigarette and shoved the lighter back into her pocket. Mr. Garcia looked at her warily. "Your mother know you do that?"

Gwen stared at him for a moment before taking the cigarette out of her mouth and poising it between her fingers. "Yes, thank you _stupid_, she does. And in case you didn't notice, I'm a big girl. I don't need her permission."

James felt the blood rise to his face immediately, and he closed his eyes to avoid Carlos' gaze. His sister was so unbelievably _rude_.

Mr. Garcia fixed her with a long, hard gaze and remained silent for a few moments. "Did your parents ever hit you?" he asked suddenly.

Gwen's brow furrowed. "No . . .?"

"They should've. A spanking never killed anybody."

* * *

Mr. Garcia and the majority of their town's police station had yet to return from their search, though Carlos' father was keeping his wife up-to-date via text. The local weather stations were calling for torrential rains later that evening, and Mr. Garcia was worried they would lose the tire tracks they'd found. They had nearly a dozen police dogs combing the brush, in addition to the large group of officers on foot.

Brooke Diamond insisted on taking everyone out to dinner at Shorty's that afternoon and invited all three families. Andrew and Nikki declined, and Mr. Garcia obviously wasn't present, but the group still took up a generous portion of the restaurant. They had claimed an incredibly long table that nearly stretched from the counter to the door of the building. It seated them, but it made conversation difficult. The boys sat in a huddle at one end, and the adults fanned out across the rest of the seats. Gwen was on Logan's left but had tuned their conversation out long ago to eavesdrop on the adults' discussion. Macey wasn't there at all. James wasn't sure what excuse she could have possibly made to convince their mother to let her avoid the dinner, but sometimes he envied her. She got out of things way easier since it was almost impossible to argue with her. James wasn't so lucky.

The meal was incredibly awkward. James refused to acknowledge Kendall, who seemed to have no idea what he'd done to deserve the silent treatment. The mood was unusually tense with the lingering shadow of the day's events hanging over them. They had barely been there twenty-four hours and James' nerves were already shot. He toyed with the roast beef sitting in front of him, having scraped the gravy and seasonings off long ago in favor of fiddling with the now cold meat. He could feel Kendall's eyes boring into him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Logan and Carlos didn't even say anything about his lack of eating over the course of the day, and James was grateful. He honestly wasn't avoiding food; he just had absolutely no energy to eat, since his stomach felt like someone had twisted his intestines into an odd game of cat's cradle.

James really couldn't stand being at the same table as the adults. Despite his anger at Kendall, he was eager to tell his friends about what he'd learned. He'd been wracking his brain for the better part of the hour, trying to think of who the mysterious men that had upset his stepmother so much could be. But he had no names and no faces to even begin with, and he wasn't home often enough anymore to be aware of who his father associated with. The only person that might was Macey.

However, Macey _was _at least being productive. James was subtly attempting to use his right hand to text her under the table, counting on the other moms to keep his own mother occupied since Brooke couldn't stand any kind of cellphone usage at mealtimes. Macey was sorting through her email in an attempt to find any mentions of a museum-related meeting on Friday, but the search had proved futile. She'd actually stopped answering James' messages nearly twenty minutes ago, which was a bit concerning because his sister was usually on top of responding to her texts.

He felt a foot suddenly nudge him under the table, and his eyes flickered up to meet Kendall. The blonde's face was taciturn, but James could see the wealth of worry in his eyes as he nodded to the untouched plate, signaling for James to eat. He shook his head, and Kendall nudged him yet again. James ignored it, rising from his seat and getting his mother's attention quietly. "I'm going home," he mouthed, and she nodded as he quickly exited the restaurant. He heard three chairs scrape across the floor as he let the door fall closed behind him, and he inwardly cursed. It took all of his self-control not to turn around and snap something along the lines of, "No, you guys don't have to follow me. I didn't eat anything all day so I can't even try to go make myself throw up."

James hadn't expected to make it far before he felt a hand on his elbow pull him back. He yanked his arm out of Kendall's grasp, not missing the hurt look that appeared on the younger boy's face.

"Okay, what did I do?" Kendall asked, raising his hands in surrender.

James' anger had cooled down considerably as the day went on, but seeing Kendall looking so innocent lit the fuse all over again, and he felt his blood begin to boil. "You promised you wouldn't tell," he spat, watching as Kendall's brow furrowed in recognition for a moment. As far as James could tell, Carlos and Logan must have stayed inside, because he and Kendall were alone. That probably wasn't a good idea, because the two tallest boys didn't hesitate to fight if the younger two weren't around to stop them.

"James-" Kendall began.

"You promised!" James cried. "You told me you wouldn't say anything, and you did it anyway!"

"Your sister asked me what was up," Kendall argued, seeming to get a bit angry himself. "What was I supposed to do, lie? Tell her nothing was wrong when you were shoving your fingers down your throat to lose your breakfast?!"

"You weren't supposed to say anything at all. You promised you wouldn't, and you broke your promise, Kendall."

"I broke my promise because I was concerned about you!" Kendall said defensively. "If I was doing that and Katie asked you what was wrong, wouldn't you tell her?"

"Not if I swore not to!"

"Oh, that's bull! You'd tell and you know it."

"Yeah, and she would tell your mom! My mom's not like your mom, Kendall, in case you haven't noticed. She thinks she owns the world and that people should give her whatever she wants, whenever she wants. She tried to drag me out of L.A. because she was _lonely_, what do you think she'd do if she found out about what I was doing?!"

"She'd make you get help, like we've been telling you for the past three weeks! This isn't something we can fix, James! You need professional help and I don't know how else to get it for you other than telling either your mom or my mom." He looked at James pleadingly. "You know my mom wouldn't be mean about it. She'd keep it quiet if you really wanted her to but she'd get you help, James. _Please _let me tell her."

"_No!_" James' phone suddenly vibrated in his back pocket, and he removed it. "I'm not in the mood to deal with this right now, okay?" he said firmly, attempting to calm himself down.

"Then go back in there and finish your food, and I won't say another word about it."

James fixed the younger boy with a glare as he flipped open his phone to read. It was a message from Macey that simply read, **I'm at work. Cover for me. **James brow furrowed in confusion because it was nearly dusk, and he didn't know anyone who would willingly go to a creepy old museum so late at night, especially given their current situation. He sent a quick, **Why? **before turning back to Kendall. He'd barely opened his mouth to speak when Carlos' voice reached them.

"Are you guys done yelling yet?" he called, poking his head out from the doorway of the restaurant. Logan's head followed a moment later, and he looked equally as hesitant to approach.

Kendall glanced at James as if to weigh the situation before turning back and motioning the younger boys forward. "Yeah, we're done." He lowered his voice and looked back at James as the others approached. "Are we cool?"

James wasn't nearly as willing to make amends. "As long as you keep your mouth shut."

"I won't tell anyone else; I promise, okay?"

James looked reluctant, but he eventually nodded. Logan and Carlos joined them only a moment later, still looking a bit apprehensive.

"So. . ." Carlos said awkwardly. "What're we doing?"

Kendall sent a pointed look to James. "Where were you going?"

"I just got a text from Macey. She's at the museum, so I'm heading over there. You guys can come if you want."

Carlos grinned. "Ooh, are we sleuthing?"

"Uh," James' brow furrowed as he began to head in the direction of the museum. "Sort of. Maybe. I don't know. . . It's probably nothing."

"What is it?" Kendall asked.

"Apparently my dad went to dinner with two guys the other day, and when he tried to bring them in the house, Nikki like, flipped out on him. She wouldn't let them in. My dad told Macey they were art guys that he was gonna work with on an exhibit deal and he said they were going to Shorty's, but we went there this morning and Shorty said my dad hasn't been there in weeks." James ran a hand through his hair, then subconsciously smoothed it back into place. "It's probably nothing but that's the only thing we learned all day, so we're kinda just going off that. Macey was going through her work email to see if there were any unfamiliar names, but she couldn't find any. So, we don't even have anything to go off of, really."

"It's worth looking into," Logan said. "And if the cops don't know about it or they don't think it was an issue, then it won't hurt for _us _to look."

"Yeah," Kendall agreed. "If it _was _some sort of art meeting, there would probably be proof somewhere in the museum, right?"

James shrugged. "Probably."

"So, all we have to do is poke around. And it's probably the best that we can do since they won't let us help with the search." He patted James comfortingly on the back. "Come on, it can't hurt. And maybe while we're in there, Logan can show us how to put the dinosaur skeleton back together again, just to take our minds off everything."

Logan visibly paled and his eyes widened. "No. _Please, no_. That was horrible."

Carlos chuckled. "That was hilarious."

"That was the worst night of my life. I thought we were gonna go to prison."

"We wouldn't have gone to prison," James protested, a bit more lighthearted now as he recalled the amusing memory from their last Halloween before moving to L.A. "My dad honestly wouldn't have cared."

"Still," Kendall joked. "That was the first night we truly appreciated your genius-brain, Logan."

Logan cringed. "That was the first night I truly appreciated the benefits of Wikihow."

* * *

**Ugh, was that okay? Little bit of Kendall and James angst there but. . . eh. I don't know, my inspiration is kind of lacking lately. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this. Please review! **

**God bless and much love, **

**-downtonabbey15**


	10. News

**12/1/2019**

**AN: (sighs) It's seven days out from finals week. . . (cries). Here's a chapter for anyone that needs a break from the atrocity known as school, lol. I hope you guys like it. **

winterschild11: Yeah, he really does. I'm not sure if his eating disorder is gonna be the main focus of this story though. . . I mean, it's there and it's obviously not going to go away quickly, but I think I'm changing my game. I might have something else in store for him, I'm not sure yet. Thank you for the review and for all your support for this story! :)

**WARNING: Discussion of drug use.**

* * *

_'__I didn't know you were bringing the entire mystery gang,' _Macey signed as the double wooden doors of the museum thumped closed behind James and the boys. _'What's up?' _

"REXY!" Carlos suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, dashing over to the large dinosaur skeleton in the middle of the hall. He jumped onto the display ledge and wrapped his arms tightly around one of the leg bones. Macey cringed as Logan dashed over and attempted to pull the younger boy off the display. "No!" he shouted, shaking free and grasping the leg once again. "Come on, Rexy! Wake up and play fetch!"

Kendall shared a pained look with James as he headed to address the situation. "Carlos, this isn't 'Night at the Museum,'" he began as he reached them.

"Did you find anything?" James asked in a low tone, quiet enough that the others couldn't hear him.

Macey's brow furrowed. _'About what?' _

"About those two guys. What have you been doing?"

_'I'm checking in the stock for the gift shop. Dad usually does it, but obviously he can't right now and I'm trying to make his life easier.' _

James rolled his eyes. "Wow, way to be productive."

_'Dude, I have no names and no faces. Where am I supposed to start? I checked my email, that's about the best that I can do.' _

"Is there anywhere in here where that meeting might be written down or something?"

She thought for a moment and shrugged. _'Maybe the HR office?' _James looked at her expectedly. _'We're not breaking into the HR office.' _

"Do you have a key?" James questioned. Macey nodded. "Then it's not breaking and entering."

_'It's not my office, so yeah, it's breaking and entering!'_

"Mace, this might help us!"

_'It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, James! And guess what? If we go in there, it'll be me that gets in trouble, not you! And I'm not getting fired!' _

"Then give me the key and I'll take the heat if dad gets ticked," James conceded. "Which he _won't_."

Macey huffed but eventually handed over her lanyard. _'Put everything back the way you found it,' _she signed before motioning to a set of doors with a sign that read, **Employees Only**. _'I'll be in the back.' _

James signed a quick, _'Okay,' _and headed towards where the boys stood, now adamantly debating the probability of the large dinosaur skeleton coming back to life and wreaking havoc on their small town.

Almost immediately upon seeing James, Carlos ceased his conversation and snapped to attention. "Where are we going?" he asked eagerly.

"Uh," James started. "Just to the HR office. I just wanna see if we can find the names of those two guys-"

Carlos gasped dramatically. "Are we BREAKING IN?!" With a "whoop" he took off at a full sprint for the HR office just beside the welcome desk. He tapped his helmet and gave a resounding war cry as he ran and rammed the door with all his might, only to bounce off into a heap on the floor.

"I have the key," James said pointedly, holding up the lanyard and stepping over Carlos' prone form to unlock the door.

Carlos groaned. "But that's no fun. . ."

With a roll of his eyes, Logan extended a hand to help him up. "Neither is a dislocated shoulder."

James fiddled with the key for a few moments before unlocking the door with ease and flicking on the light. The HR guy, James couldn't remember his name, seemed nice enough, although James didn't really know most of the employees all that well. Nonetheless, he felt a bit apprehensive at the thought of rooting through someone's personal possessions without their consent. It was for a good cause, technically.

Carlos immediately meandered behind a large desk in the corner and began rifling haphazardly through stacks of paperwork. The HR man was clearly an organized individual, and Logan quickly held out a hand to stop his friend.

"We have to put everything back the way we found it," he said quickly. "They can't know we were in here. This is probably some kind of privacy violation."

Carlos snorted. "Since when has that ever stopped us?"

Logan shrugged. "Good point. Still, though. Try not to make it look like we were in here." He chuckled as Carlos hastily attempted to shuffle the mountain of paperwork back to its original position.

Kendall wandered near the front of the desk and fished gingerly through a few files. "So. . . what are we looking for?"

James shook his head. "I don't-"

The door suddenly swung open and Macey hurried in, shutting it behind her and turning the bolt to lock it.

"What are you doing?" James asked, his brow furrowing.

_'Someone's in here,' _his sister signed. _'The keycard thing at the front just went off." _

"So?"

_'So, Dad and I are the only people whose cards have access after-hours!' _

James moved towards the door in confusion. "Then it's probably Dad. . ."

_'I was texting Dad like, five minutes ago. He's at home!' _

James unlocked the door but stopped suddenly as voiced sounded out in the front hallway. Logan immediately dove for the light switch, and the room plunged into darkness.

"Okay," James whispered. "That didn't sound like dad."

"I'm calling the cops," Logan muttered, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

Kendall grabbed it. "No! They're gonna hear us, and we don't even know who they are!"

"They're probably robbers," Carlos pointed out.

James rolled his eyes. "With a passkey? It's gotta be someone that works here." Macey waved a hand in front of his face and he turned. "What?"

_'It doesn't sound like anybody that works here, and I'm here every day, James." _

"You got it?" a rough male voice said from the hallway. The group in the HR office held their breath as a muffled and unintelligible reply came. A door slammed a moment later, and two pairs of footsteps quickly retreated towards the main entryway. James waited until he heard the soft _thump _of the old wooden door shutting before he turned to his sister.

"Do the cameras here run at night?" he asked. Macey nodded. "Can you get into them?"

She shook her head. _'Uh, no. Only Dad's allowed to do that.' _

"You can't like, just go on quick?"

_'No, it's on his __laptop. I can't even log in." _

"Okay," Kendall said quickly. "Your dad's the only one who gives out key cards, right? Then that _had _to have been people that work here." He looked ready to say more, but James cut him off.

"But we should check," he insisted.

"James, you don't need to hack into your dad's laptop and check the security footage, okay?" Kendall hesitated. "I. . . I think you're just grasping at straws."

_He was what? _An odd, harsh feeling swept over James, and his blood began to boil. The feeling was strange and foreign to him, and it made him uneasy. "'Grasping at straws?'" he repeated. "Wow, I'm sorry Kendall. If somebody took _Katie _wouldn't you try to find her as soon as you could?"

"Of course, I would," Kendall said quickly, realizing how his words may have been misconstrued. "You _know _I would. But James. . . you don't even know who those guys are. The chances of them being related to Landon going missing are like, nill."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you. Look, if you really think someone should check the cameras, then we'll ask Carlos' dad when he gets back. They can probably bring it up way clearer than we can anyway. And plus, we can't hack without some kind of warrant. That's illegal."

Carlos raised his hand a bit hesitantly. Kendall's brow furrowed. "What?"

"I myself count as a warrant because I could literally get away with murder."

Logan scoffed. "No, you _can't_."

"Uh, yeah huh. I burned half my house down, Logan. I should have gone to juvie for arson, but my dad was like, 'Nah, he's not a psychopath yet.' and everyone totally let it slide."

"_Okay_," Kendall said quickly. "Logan, stop. Carlos. . ." he trailed off, looking his friend up and down a bit warily. "Remind me to never, _ever _give you anything like matches." He turned back to James, who still looked genuinely upset. "Look, our parents are gonna be done with dinner soon and they're gonna wonder where we are. Let's just head back, okay?"

James glanced at his sister as if for her input before nodding silently. The group quickly reorganized the room to the best of their ability before exiting and locking the door. James handed the lanyard back to Macey as they headed for the front door and down the stone steps. It had grown considerably darker out, and a light breeze was blowing. He flicked his hair from his eyes and stopped short. His gaze landed on a small black car in the far corner of the parking lot. It was dusty and grimy but the windows were tinted, and James struggled to peer inside even within the short distance. He didn't see any movement or figure, but it was almost impossible to tell through the darkened glass.

He glanced at Macey and realized that she was staring at the car too. _'Do you know them?' _he signed. She shook her head a bit uncertainly, peering once more at the car before turning her gaze back to the trek to their mother's house, about two or three miles down the road.

James wasn't so quick, instead letting his gaze linger on the vehicle. He could've sworn he saw a head move inside, but when he blinked, the figure was gone. It was difficult to tell through the window, anyway.

Surely it was just his paranoia.

* * *

Dusk came and went, and still the police did not return. Thunderous clouds gathered overhead, and the boys figured that with the threat of rain, Mr. Garcia and his men would likely stay out as long as possible, so as not to lose the tire tracks. It did nothing to ease their concerns, though. James struggled to clear his head as he prepared for bed. Obviously, they hadn't found anything, if they hadn't called (and that wasn't really disappointing since James' stomach clenched anytime the phone rang). But that would mean that Landon was still missing, and of course, James didn't want that. Or maybe they'd already found. . . what was left of him. Maybe the police wanted to wait until morning to tell them all, after they'd had a good night's sleep. Or maybe they'd already told James' father everything and he was only going to tell them when he felt like it. It wouldn't be uncharacteristic of him. And that meant that James' mind would likely run wild all night, which in turn meant that he wouldn't sleep. He dropped down roughly onto his bed and let his head thump back against the pillow with a defeated sigh. There didn't seem to be any hopeful angle, no matter how he looked at the situation.

Carlos, meanwhile, heaved a dramatic sigh, placing his hands behind his head and gazing idly at the ceiling of James' bedroom. Once again, the boys were sprawled out across the floor by James' bed, listening quietly as the house quieted down. Despite the fact that they'd hiked for miles that day and would be waking up early again tomorrow, the Latino wasn't in the least bit tired. "Soooo," he eventually began. "You guys want to play Heads Up Seven Up?"

He heard Kendall exhale deeply beside him. "Carlos, there's only four of us."

"We can get the girls," Carlos suggested.

James scoffed. "Yeah, I don't think Gwen would go for that."

"I can invite Julio."

"Dude," Logan said. "Who's gonna walk a block and a half in the cold to play that?"

"Uh, _I would_."

The boys chuckled lightly, and Carlos thanked himself for at least lightening the mood a bit. The mood was quickly spoiled, however, when the door was thrown open (again, at quite a dangerous speed) and Gwen walked in. "'Sup, losers," she greeted, shifting a blanket and pillow in her arms and kicking the door shut behind her.

James immediately sat up, peeved. "Can you knock? What if we were changing?"

Gwen shrugged. "I helped change your diapers, Jamie. Nothing I haven't seen." She ignored the way James suddenly flushed and glared at her. She moved to the far side of the room, then stopped to glare at the goat, once again curled by Carlos' side. "Ew."

"This is a difficult time for him," Carlos said defensively. "He needs support."

Gwen scoffed. "And I can't afford name-brand cigarettes right now. This is a difficult time for me but I'm not stinking up the house and chewing the furniture." She chucked her blanket onto the floor. "Mom took Macey to urgent care," she explained to James, placing the pillow under her head and laying down on the left of his bed, away from the other boys.

James' brow furrowed. "Why? She looked fine today."

"And she like, totally almost passed out twenty minutes ago, and she couldn't breathe right, so Mom high-tailed it outta here with her. She infected my room though so I'm camping out in here."

"Gwen," James whined.

"I'm not gonna bother you," Gwen assured, raising her hands in defense. "You guys go ahead and do your guy stuff and talk about. . . whatever you talk about, and I won't even say anything. You won't even know I'm here."

James sighed, begrudgingly laying back down. "Somehow I doubt that," he muttered, punching his pillow before letting his head rest on it.

The other boys, of course, grew eerily silent now that Gwen was in the room. Their normal nighttime conversations were absent, and gradually their breathing evened out until James assumed they were all asleep. He sighed, preparing himself for another sleepless night. Worry for Landon and now Macey plagued him, and he struggled to drift off. He kicked his covers away and sprawled out a bit more freely, hands behind his head.

"Do you think he's alive?"

His sister's sudden whisper beside his bed made him jump a mile in the air, and he very nearly fell off the bed. Gwen winced. "Sorry," she whispered, surprisingly genuine.

"First," James whispered, a hand on his chest. "Don't ever do that again. Second, what kind of question is that? Why wouldn't he be alive?"

Gwen looked about as worried as James felt. "Uh, because someone took him? People don't take kids to play with them and have a good time, James. People take kids and. . . do really bad stuff. It's been almost six days and we haven't found anything."

"Yeah, and we haven't found anything that would indicate he's not alive," James countered. Why was everyone so ready to give up? They were searching fervently, but their attitudes suggested they were searching for a _body _and not a _person_. "Why are we all just assuming he's dead?"

"I'm not, I'm just. . ." She struggled to find the right words before sighing. "I don't know what I'm thinking. This is so messed up, man."

"Yeah, I know."

Gwen rifled around through her pocket before producing a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "I need to smoke. You wanna come?"

Any possible kind reconciliation James might have been feeling evaporated, and he glared at her. "_No_."

She shrugged, standing. "Suit yourself." She moved carefully out of the room, opening and shutting the door quietly behind her.

James sighed once more, laying back down and rubbing a hand across his face.

This really _was _so messed up.

* * *

He woke to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him weakly. The gesture was, of course, unwelcome, and James fought to bat the hand away. It persisted, and he heard a sniff and a tearful inhale above him. He peeled his eyes open.

Gwen was the one shaking him from her stance beside his bed. For all his insomnia, James assumed he fell asleep fairly quickly because he didn't remember hearing her come back in from her smoking break, and a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand told him that it was almost four in the morning. His brow furrowed.

Gwen placed a finger over her lips, silently telling him to be quiet as she motioned for him to follow her. This was odd behavior, and James' first thought was that she was high; doped up on something strong and seemingly unaware that the sun wasn't even up yet. But her steps to the door, though slow, were sure and steady, and she didn't smell like anything. James silently pushed back his covers and rose, following her out into the hallway.

To his surprise, Mrs. Knight was there, and she was crying. She gave him a sympathetic look but said nothing as she slid past him and into his bedroom. She flicked on the overhead light. "Boys," she said softly. "Wake up." She gently pushed the door closed behind her, and the sound of her voice died behind the wood.

James immediately turned to his sister. "What's the matter?" he asked hoarsely, swallowing past the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. His sister had randomly awoken him at four in the morning, and Mrs. Knight had gone to have what looked to be a very serious discussion with his friends. James' eyes flickered to Gwen's bedroom and then to his mother's. Both beds were still empty.

His mother and Macey weren't back yet. The realization did little to help his mounting fear.

Gwen gave him an unreadable look, but her eyes were red (not bloodshot like they got when she'd smoked too much; red as though she'd been crying) and her cheeks were streamed with tears. She was shaking.

James suddenly felt his stomach lurch. "Gwen?" He was certain he was going to be sick.

Gwen took a shaky breath, and she struggled to control herself enough to speak. "Mom called," she said quietly. "Landon's dead." She moved to the staircase almost numbly before starting to descend. "Come downstairs."

* * *

**God bless you guys. Much love.**

**-downtonabbey15**


	11. Click

**12/11/19**

**AN: I usually don't update so fast, but I took my last exam yesterday and I thought I'd post to celebrate because NOW I'M ON BREAK THANK GOD! I thought school would never end, lol. I'm going to attempt to get most of this story written since I have over a month off. We'll see if I can actually stick to that, haha. Thank you guys for bearing with me and sticking with this story even though my updates have been so sporadic. **

**ALSO GUYS I ADOPTED TWO CATS. . . I WENT FOR ONE AND I CAME HOME WITH TWO SO YAY ME! THEY'RE ADORABLE!**

annabellex2: Yeah, James definitely needs to talk with the guys about how bad he's feeling.

winterschild11: Yeah. . . I came up with this idea before I'd even had Landon appear in "When Darkness Calls," and once I wrote that scene in chapter 6, I was really hesitant. I loved his character but it was sort of necessary for this story, even though I hated killing off a kid. Maybe I'll bring him back in an alternate AU sort of thing once this is done. I've got an idea for something but I'd really have to rework it.

**I'm genuinely glad some people were hoping Landon would be found alive. I know how most people feel about OCs so I wasn't sure, lol. I hope the OCs in this story are at least semi-interesting. **

**Warnings: eating disorder, mention of a large crowd if that makes anyone uncomfortable. **

* * *

_"Do you want to hold him?" _

_ James glanced at his father hesitantly. Andrew Diamond was beaming, and he looked prouder than James had ever seen. He wondered if he'd had the same reaction at all of their births; he was too young to remember Macey's, and he obviously wasn't there for Gwen's. _

_ "I'm afraid I'll drop him," James confessed. "I've never held a baby, Dad." _

_ His dad moved to deposit Landon in his arms anyway. "Just support his head," Andrew instructed. He nodded as James gently cradled his brother's head in the crook of his elbow. "There you go." _

_ James stood rigidly, feeling Nikki's icy glare on him from the hospital bed. Landon was so small; he'd never actually seen a newborn baby before. Were they all this small? Was that even healthy? He was wriggling in James' arms, and the ten-year-old instinctively tightened his hold. The wriggling intensified. What if he squeezed him too tight?_

_ His father seemed to read his mind. "You're doing fine, Jamie." _

_ "Don't drop him," Nikki said carefully. _

_ "I won't," James replied, resisting the urge to snap at her. Did she think he was going to gallon-smash the kid like in those YouTube videos? He wasn't a moron. _

_ "He likes you," his father said, smiling. _

_ James scoffed lightly. "Uh, he looks like he's trying to jump out of my arms, Dad." Landon gave a particularly unhappy squawk, and James shifted him gently in his grasp. "Oh, come on. I'm not that bad." He began to hum lightly, bouncing on his toes a bit and swaying slowly back and forth. The baby gradually quieted. _

_ Andrew shared a look with Nikki and chuckled. "Remind me to call you when we can't get him to sleep. You can sing to him." _

_ "Oh, do you sing, James?" Nikki asked. _

_ James nodded a bit hesitantly. She was his step-mother now, he reminded himself. He would have to let her into his life eventually. "Yeah, I do." _

_ She smiled. "Well, you'll have to come sing for him, then. Maybe you can teach him." _

_ "Mmm-hmm," Andrew hummed in agreement. "He'll need a big brother to look up to." _

The sharp, electronic beeping of the microwave drug James from his thoughts. He hung his head, pushing himself slowly up from where he was leaning on the kitchen counter, and moved to open the microwave. The large measuring cup filled with water was practically on fire; steam billowed out the door, and the glass burnt his palm when he cupped his hand around it. He didn't notice.

He shut the door and moved back to the counter, filling two coffee cups to the brim with the hot liquid. The chocolate powder already inside rose and settled at the top of each mug. He poured the leftover water into the sink and let the measuring cup fall with a quiet thud. He sighed deeply, then turned when Gwen's voice reached him as she entered the kitchen.

She was nodding, cellphone pressed to her ear. "Yeah, we'll watch for you. Okay, bye." She flicked it closed and pulled a stool up to the counter, leaning tiredly on the marble top. "That was Mom," she began. "They're on their way back. Macey has pneumonia. She's fine, but Mom said to watch for them and get her inside 'cause she's gotta go to CVS and get the meds."

James grimaced. It appeared the past few days had finally caught up with his sister. A quick glance at the clock told him it was nearly six in the morning. He prayed they'd be back soon. His poor mother was probably a mess.

She'd called Gwen with the news that morning, after Andrew called her. She gave no details, if she had them. She told her to tell Mrs. Knight and Katie and the boys. After some social media surfing, Gwen had dug up the Duluth Police Department's Twitter account. Mr. Garcia would be giving a public briefing that afternoon at four o'clock. No details would be released before then.

James was numb. He stirred his hot chocolate absent-mindedly, tuning out Gwen's rambling. Mr. Garcia couldn't be right, could he? He was one of the most careful people James knew but. . . maybe he was mistaken. Maybe the. . . maybe the body they'd found looked like Landon and he was mistaken and he'd _told _James' father that he wasn't sure. And as usual, James' parents had blown it all out of proportion and were jumping to conclusions. Yeah, that was it.

James stopped stirring and let the metal spoon fall to the counter with a _clink_. The dark liquid in the mug continued spinning, forming small bubbles on the surface. James lifted the cup to his lips and took a long pull of the drink. It was still piping hot, but it didn't burn. He set the cup down, watching as the liquid settled.

_"Why can't I have hot chocolate?"_

_ "'Cause you'll never sleep. And that means _I'll _never sleep." _

_ "Aw, come on, Jamie!" __Landon gave him the puppy dog eyes, cupping his hands together innocently and sticking his lower lip out in a pout. James rolled his eyes. His father could never resist that look, and neither could James for that matter. _

_ "Fine, but don't tell your mom." _

"-ya know?"

Gwen's question pulled James back to the present. "Mmm-hmm," he hummed quickly, hoping the answer was sufficient. He had no idea what she'd asked.

His older sister sighed, grabbing her own mug and taking a sip of the warm liquid. She paused, then quickly set the cup down, cupped a hand over her mouth, and stumbled into the bathroom directly adjacent to the kitchen. She promptly retched into the toilet.

James was on his feet quickly but hovered outside the doorway. "Are you okay?" he asked, unsure of how to proceed. This Gwen seemed relatively sober and more like the pre-divorce Gwen he'd known in their youth, but. . . her previous rejection of her immediate family was still fresh in his mind. This was uncharted territory. James kept his distance.

Gwen nodded but heaved again, then spat and breathed heavily for a minute or two. She eventually flushed the toilet and stood shakily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She nodded, seeming to answer his question. "I think I just need something solid," she replied, washing her hands and heading back out to the kitchen. She grabbed a loaf of bread from the fridge and moved to the toaster. "You want anything?"

James instinctively moved to shake his head, then stopped. He'd barely eaten anything the day before, but he wasn't really hungry now. He should probably have something, if just to keep the guys off his case. "I'll get it in a bit," he answered, knowing that Gwen was notorious for binge-style eating. He didn't think he could stomach a massive portion of anything.

They sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence as Gwen eventually made her toast and wolfed it down. He couldn't understand how she did it; his own stomach had been in knots the past twenty-four hours, and he felt as though there was a lump lodged in his throat. He wasn't even sure if he could drink any water, let alone inhale nearly half a loaf of bread.

His thoughts spiraled as he sat. Horrible images seemed to embed themselves behind his eyes; the caution tape surrounding the same wooded area as yesterday, only now there was an undertaker's van and a body bag. His father at the morgue, being led to a back room to identify the body like a scene out of a crime show. Everyone in black, standing around a grassy area. It was raining and Nikki was crying and-

James brought the mug to his mouth so fast that some of the liquid splattered onto the countertop. He ignored it, taking a long pull of the drink and setting the cup down with a loud thunk. The images remained.

"Are we gonna sit Shiva?" Gwen asked quietly, dipping a piece of her toast into her own hot chocolate.

James paused as her words dawned on him. "Oh geez, I didn't even think about that."

"Was he baptized?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He goes. . . he went to St. Michael's with Macey and everything." James racked his brain, trying to think back to all the Hebrew School classes they'd taken as children. They'd learned about Shiva and the mourning process, but he'd only ever been through it once and he remembered next to nothing. "Do we do it for someone who wasn't Jewish?"

Gwen shrugged. "I don't think so. And Mom wouldn't sit it anyway. He wasn't technically family for her. It would just be us two." She sighed heavily. "I've never been to a Catholic funeral."

"Me neither."

"Do you know what they do?"

"Same as us, just. . . not. I don't know."

"Are we gonna have to do anything?"

James' brow furrowed. "Uh, probably not since we're not Catholic. I don't know if we'd even be allowed."

Gwen's cellphone suddenly rang, blasting an odd, sixties-sounding tune that was unfamiliar to James. His sister flipped it open and turned it on speaker. "Mom?" she answered, rising and heading to the sink with her now empty plate.

"Unlock the door but don't come outside," their mother swiftly ordered. She sounded upset.

James brow furrowed. "What?"

"Just do as I said, James!" The phone cut off and the dial tone began to blare. Gwen chucked the plate carelessly into the sink before moving towards the front room. James followed.

His sister made it to the window that overlooked the driveway first. "Crap," she muttered, a mix of frustration and surprise in her voice. James yanked open the curtain next to her before she could stop him.

There were paparazzi _everywhere_. They littered the sidewalk and the road in front of the house, and their cars seemed to stretch almost endlessly down the block, parked haphazardly facing in the direction of the Diamond residence. Some appeared to have camped there, sitting on blankets as they checked their cameras and other recording devices. James didn't think he'd _ever _seen so many of them other than at album releases and special events like that. He felt a sudden urge to vomit. His six-year-old brother. . .his brother was _dead, _and they thought it might be a good idea to camp on his _lawn_?!

"Is that normal?" Gwen asked, shifting the curtains a bit in an effort to block the two from view.

James winced. "Only if they want a good story." He peered down the street, craning his neck. He couldn't tell where the paparazzi cars ended and his neighbors' cars began. "It looks like they almost blocked off the street."

"Uh," his sister stammered, pointing in the opposite direction. "Clearly they did."

James followed her finger and almost gasped audibly. "Is that _Mom_?!"

It was an unnecessary question, he thought, because _yes_. His mother was driving her Buick on the grass, plowing across the front lawns of several neighbors' yards as fast as she could without killing anyone. The reporters were trailing the car, shutters clicking as Brooke barreled the vehicle crookedly into the driveway. One man got right up against the driver's door, pressing his camera against the window. It was obvious who they were looking for. James' mother didn't even hesitate. She threw open the door, letting it collide with the man's camera, and subsequently, his face. He went down hard. Brooke climbed swiftly out of the vehicle, and the man scrambled away. James' stomach sank. His mother was absolutely _fuming. _

Footsteps suddenly thundered on the stairs behind him, and he turned as Kendall, Logan, and Carlos, clad in hoodies, dashed to the door. "Stay inside," Kendall instructed, undoing the bolt on the door before flinging open the screen door and flying out onto the lawn. The other boys were close behind him. Mrs. Knight came hurrying downstairs as well, rushing to the door as her son took off in a fury.

"We saw them from upstairs," she explained to James and Gwen as they stepped away from the window. "They're everywhere."

Brooke slammed her car door shut, yelling something to Macey that sounded like, "Get inside." If the situation weren't so chaotic James would have laughed, because _yes_, his hermit of a sister would _absolutely _get out of the car and make the half a dozen yard dash to the front door amidst a sea of clicking cameras. Yeah, definitely.

Their mother crossed in front of the car, face red, and approached the reporters. "You're on _my property_," she yelled angrily. "And you're scaring _my kid_. You have exactly ten seconds to start getting back in your cars or I _promise you _I will make your lives miserable!"

Mrs. Knight's eyes widened. "Brooke, you can't threaten them!" she called, hurrying out the door after her friend. James winced as his mother began to yell even more obscenities, ignoring Mrs. Knight's attempts to calm her down. Like a chain reaction, the scene gradually began to delve into chaos.

The reporters rambled almost incoherently, oblivious to Mrs. Diamond and her vehicle as they pounced on Kendall and begged to know where James was. His eyes flashed to the right as Carlos and Logan made a mad dash for the vehicle, keeping their heads turned as they did. They wrenched open the back door and grabbed Macey, then hurried back to the front porch while attempting to shield her from the cameras.

"Logan! Carlos!" several reporters began to yell. Their focus gradually shifted from Mrs. Diamond to the now obviously visible members of Big Time Rush. Gwen stepped outside to intercept Macey, pushing her inside as Carlos hurried back out to help Mrs. Knight try to pacify Mrs. Diamond. James peeked around the corner as his mother began to sound increasingly furious, and suddenly nearly half the group surged towards the house.

"James!" they practically screamed, pushing past one another and shoving microphones forward as far as they could. They scrambled to get close to the porch. "James, do you have a comment?!"

That seemed to light the short fuse known as Kendall Knight, because the blond quickly left his mother's side and got right up in the reporter's face. "You want a comment?!" he jeered. "I'll give you a comment!" He raised his hands as though he were about to shove the man, and Logan practically dove off the porch. He locked his arms around Kendall's waist in a death grip.

"Kendall, you can't touch them!" he cried, struggling to hold his brother back. Carlos hurried over to help, but they were powerless when Kendall was on the warpath. The three struggled, Kendall nearly cussing out the reporters while Brooke continued threatening to bowl them all over with her Buick if they didn't get off her lawn.

Inside, Macey collapsed weakly onto the stairs concealed behind the door. James pressed himself up against the wall, trying his best to remain hidden while still being able to see. He resisted the urge to cover his ears as the scene became louder and louder. He was surprised none of his neighbors had come outside yet (although if he looked out his window and saw at least two dozen paparazzi standing across the street, he probably wouldn't come outside either).

"_Hey!_" a voice suddenly yelled from above. It did little to garner the attention of the crowd, but James and Gwen heard it, and lifted their eyes as a sudden gush of water came plummeting out of a second-story window above the porch. It doused the reporters underneath and scarcely missed seventy-five percent of BTR by a few inches.

_"Katie!_" Mrs. Knight screeched, abandoning Brooke as she turned to glare in the direction of the window (and presumably Katie).

"There's more where that came from if you don't back off, suckers!" Another wave of water came, and several more reporters screamed as they (and their cameras) were soaked. The crowd began to flee as an empty bucket came flying out of the window. It bounced of the hood of a car and rolled unevenly across the lawn before a paparazzo tripped over it and fell face-first into the now wet grass.

Mrs. Knight eventually pulled Brooke away and followed the boys back to the house. The door was promptly deadbolted, and Kendall, Logan, and Carlos immediately began drawing the blinds and closing the curtains of the surrounding windows.

Brooke remained motionless at the front door for a moment, head down as she struggled to calm down and catch her breath. She checked the locks once more, then turned to James with a glare. "Thank you for starting a band, James, and bringing _that _down on our heads."

"Brooke-" Mrs. Knight started.

"I can't even get out of my own house," his mother continued. "And I still need to get to CVS." She moved to look out the peephole at the front lawn. Some reporters were gradually retreating to their vehicles; others remained on the sidewalk and at the bottom of the driveway, clearly eyeing the house.

Mrs. Knight turned to her son and put a gentle hand on his arm. "Why don't you boys start breakfast for them, huh?" she suggested quietly.

"Sure," Kendall answered softly, motioning for Logan and Carlos to follow him. They departed a bit hesitantly to the kitchen, sending a few worried glances James' way.

She smiled sadly, moving to James and Gwen by the stairs. "You two should try to go back to bed for a bit."

James struggled to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat as their situation seemed to settle around them once again. "We won't sleep."

"Try anyway," Mrs. Knight suggested gently. "You all need it." She gave them a look that, though it was nothing but sympathetic, signaled the end of the conversation.

Gwen shrugged, turning and heading up the stairs without a second glance. James extended a hand to Macey, who took it before standing and starting a bit shakily up the stairs in front of him and heading to Gwen's bedroom. He followed slowly. Gwen stopped him when he reached the top, motioning for him to come around the side of the wall that connected to the banister. They pressed up against the corner as the women downstairs began to speak in low tones.

Jennifer waited until she thought they were out of earshot before turning and resting a gentle hand on her friend's back. "Brooke. . .what can I do for you?"

"How do they even know?"

"I'm sure they knew the boys came home," Mrs. Knight said with a grimace. "They can find out whatever they want."

"He. . .he was six-years-old."

Mrs. Knight bit her lip, pushing back the lump now in her own throat. ". . .I know."

Brooke sucked in a shaky breath in an effort to compose herself. "What do I say to them? What do you say to a parent who's lost a child?"

The question left Jennifer speechless. What _could _they say? What could _anyone _say? Certainly nothing would "make it better." Unsure, she shook her head numbly as tears came to her own eyes.

In a rare moment of emotion, Brooke let out a quiet sob. "Oh, Andy. . ."

* * *

**I seriously feel bad for killing Landon. I have guilt, and it's only getting darker and angstier from here on out, guys. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It was sort of a filler, but. . . next one is better, I promise.**

**Reviews will make my cats happy. :) **

**God bless you guys. Much love. **


	12. Marred Goodbye

**12/16/19**

**AN: Am I actually updating this in less than seven days? Good golly gee, look at me! Hopefully this chapter is good, lol. I don't want to rush but I would absolutely love to get this ****(almost) ****finished by the end of January, but I doubt that'll happen. Sigh. I've got some ideas for other stories, but I'm not sure about them yet. Also, I've had a migraine for about five days but thank God I think it's going away now, since I can actually look at a computer tonight. Hopefully updates for this story will come a bit faster now that I have more time. Sigh. I'll shut up now. **

winterschild11: Your comment brought such a smile to my face. It literally made me laugh out loud, and I really needed that. I honestly love Brooke. When I first saw her in Big Time Moms I thought she was probably like, one of the best side characters of any tv show. And I love her because even though I think she's got a bit of a mean streak, she tries to do everything out of love for her family. I hope I portray that well-enough in the following chapters. Thank you for the review, and for all your support for this story! :)

**Major angst ahead, prepare yourselves. **

**WARNINGS: mentions of an eating disorder, purging, death (non-descriptive), etc. **

* * *

_"Kids, sit down." _

_ "What's going on?" _

_ "Your mother and I need to talk to you." _

_ "Oh, no. It's all on you." _

_ "Brooke-"_

_ "Just tell them." _

_ "I can't just-"_

_ "Your father slept with a waitress, and now they're having a baby. We're getting a divorce." _

Those words had effectively been the straw that broke the camel's back for the Diamond household. It forever separated their parents; it sent Macey into what seemed to be an unbreakable silence; it sent Gwen down a road of nothing but debt and drugs and one-night stands, and it very nearly sent James down the same path. He could recall dozens of dark nights on his older sister's bedroom floor, smoking himself into an abyss of numbness that few things could penetrate.

He ached for that feeling now, much as he hated to say it. He longed for the sweet feeling of nothingness that had come over him every time he used something. He was sure that anything would be better compared to what he was feeling right now. He never thought his heart could physically hurt.

The single lamp on his nightstand was the only light source in the room, not that it mattered. They weren't sitting Shiva, but his mother had covered up all the mirrors in the house anyway, citing something about reflection and not worrying about vanity or something like that. James had no way to see what he looked like, but it didn't matter. He already knew. The suit and tie were a dull greyish-black, and it made him sick. He liked suits most of the time. He owned several, hand-picked by his mother, of course. They were always for pleasant occasions - parties or dinners or dances or special evenings. He'd never connected them to something somber, like a funeral.

And yet here he was, decked out in one of his suits to watch them lower his brother's body in the ground. He couldn't remember a time he'd ever felt so emotionally sick.

He sat down on his bed numbly, sighing deeply. He missed his friends. Mrs. Knight had put her foot down; she'd called Mr. Wakefield, the tenant she'd rented the house to, and he'd readily agreed to let them temporarily move back in. She wasn't going to dream of putting Brooke out at a time like this, but James suspected she also didn't want the boys spending over a week sleeping on James' bedroom floor. At least the three of them could sleep on actual beds now. That certainly beat clusters of blankets on the ground.

Gustavo had also been called; he wasn't sure who did it, but he granted them another two weeks off. For the first time in the past year and a half, James hated his job. How could he possibly go back to work and sing about girls and friendship and happiness when his family was in agony in Minnesota, waiting desperately for the police to solve his brother's murder?

He hadn't seen his father since the day they'd found the car. He was almost afraid to. He and Nikki had been eerily silent, not that James expected much more. Landon was Nikki's only child and the apple of their father's eye. He spoiled him, doted on him, and coddled him every chance he got. He couldn't imagine what they were going through. Despite their faults, he wouldn't wish the situation on anyone.

"Are you ready?" His mother's voice drifted through the room as she came and paused in the doorway. She was clothed similarly in a black dress with a matching jacket.

James nodded without a word.

"Let's go," she answered, motioning for him to follow her. "The girls are already outside." James stood and followed with heavy, reluctant steps. He and his mother were silent as they exited the house and locked the front door, and it only made the dark mass in the pit of James' stomach grow.

He could see Gwen already in her car, the light of her phone illuminating her face as she sat, running the vehicle idly. Macey was in the backseat of their mother's car; face turned away towards the window, and arms crossed over her chest. James climbed into the front passenger side while his mother took the driver's seat. A thick silence fell as Brooke rummaged through her purse to find her keys, and James sent a quick glance back to his sister. She didn't turn to face him.

The drive to the funeral home was agonizingly slow and horribly fast all at the same time. His mother pulled into the driveway and parked a few spaces down from where their father's vehicle sat. Gwen stopped just beside them. In true Brooke Diamond fashion, James' mother didn't hesitate. She yanked the keys from the ignition and climbed quickly out of the car, shutting the door behind her. James sat frozen for a moment, trying to will himself to stand.

He wasn't aware he was moving until he was following his mother up the front steps and into the main hall of the parlor. They were greeted by two men who gave them somber smiles as they offered to take their coats. The group obliged, and Brooke thanked them cordially and began to lead the way down a hallway and to the left. He could already hear the soft, somber music playing as he and his sisters trailed their mother. Brooke stopped at a podium to sign in, and James suddenly felt lightheaded.

He couldn't do this.

How could he _possibly _do this?

Tears rushed to his eyes, and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, fighting to restrain himself. How could he go in there? Was it an open-casket service? Mr. Garcia and the rest of the police force had been tight-lipped since the discovery. He had no idea what Landon would look like.

The thought made his stomach turn.

"I'm gonna go smoke," Gwen said abruptly, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from her bag. "I'll see you guys in there."

Their mother's head snapped up faster than lightning, and she gave Gwen's retreating form a look that could kill. James said nothing, keeping his gaze on the ground.

Brooke let the pen fall back against the book with a gentle _thud _before she sighed. "You kids ready?"

How could they ever be?

"You can hang back for a while," their mother continued. "I'm sure your father won't mind."

James shook his head. "We'll come in," he replied. Brooke took a shaky breath before turning and heading down a short hallway. James and Macey followed suit. They headed down a short flight of stairs that led into a large room.

James was certain he was going to vomit on the spot.

He stopped in the doorway as his mother headed to the front of the room, where his father and Nikki sat beside a small, closed casket. His father stood, hugging their mother before starting to sob in her arms. Brooke seemed to set all malice aside as she reciprocated the gesture, holding a hand out to Nikki as she did so. The younger woman took it before ducking her head as she began to cry as well.

The adults seemed to fade from view as black spots danced in front of James' eyes. He blinked heavily, struggling to pull his gaze away from the casket. This was real. His father wasn't going to burst out laughing and say it was a huge prank to tease them all so close to Halloween. Landon wasn't going to come barreling through the doorway, throwing himself at James like he always did when he saw him and begging him to buy him every little thing he saw. Mr. Garcia wasn't going to suddenly telephone and say that it was a carjacking gone wrong, and they'd found Landon safe and sound and caught the guys who'd taken him and the car. This was real. Landon was dead.

His six-year-old brother was dead, and James couldn't remember the last conversation he'd had with him.

Unwilling to go upfront and face his family just yet, he sat down heavily in a chair against the back wall and dropped his face into his hands. Suddenly, he was nine-years-old again, huddled with his sisters on Gwen's bedroom floor as they listened to their parents scream at each other in the kitchen below. The divorce had been announced, and they'd been shooed upstairs like babies while their parents dished it out on one another as always. They were throwing out words like "custodial parent" and "split custody," and the terms made James cringe. It had felt like his world was ending all around him, and for a while, it seemed as though it had until he'd gotten ahold of himself and cleaned up for his younger siblings' sakes.

But now that feeling was back because now Landon. . . Landon, who he ignored as much as he possibly could and who he excluded as often as possible, was dead. His brother, who he'd attempted to shun from his life simply due to the circumstances of his birth, though it was through no fault of his own.

A hand came to rest gently on his shoulder, and he turned. Carlos was behind him, similarly dressed in black and looking as though he was going to cry. It was such an odd look for Carlos Garcia to have; James couldn't remember ever seeing him cry, at least besides when they were younger. He was too cheerful for that.

"Hey, man," Carlos whispered, crouching down beside the chair. "I know it's just family for the first hour, but my dad wanted to. . . he just wanted to keep an eye on things, so we're out here if you need us, okay?"

James shook his head. "No, stay here. My parents won't care." He scooched over into the next chair, and Carlos dropped down beside him.

"Where are the girls?"

"Gwen's out smoking, and Macey's. . ." He glanced around. "She's probably in a corner somewhere. I'll find her in a while."

Carlos nodded, letting his eyes drift for a bit. He quickly pulled them away from the front of the room. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked his friend quietly.

James shook his head, trying and failing to muster a grateful smile. "No. But thanks, man."

They sat in silence for a while; Kendall and Logan arrived only a few minutes later, and Mrs. Knight, Katie, and Carlos' family soon joined the growing crowd in the funeral parlor. James stood awkwardly up at the front of the room with his father and Nikki, accepting condolences and greeting family members once they'd moved through the line. It was terribly awkward since they rarely spoke with their extended family on either side; both Brooke and Andrew had less than stellar upbringings, and they really hadn't been introduced to Nikki's family. James eventually peeled away, anxious to distance himself from the situation. Kendall and Carlos were nowhere in sight, but Logan was sitting in a faraway corner by himself, scrolling through his phone. "Hey," he said quietly, sliding the device into his pocket as James sat wearily beside him. "You okay?"

James nodded a bit numbly, glancing around the room. "Where are Kendall and Carlos?"

"They're just. . . checking on something," Logan replied, glancing at the door briefly. His eyes returned to his friend. "Is there anything we can do?"

James sighed, shaking his head. "No. . . You know, I-. . . Part of me doesn't know how I'm supposed to go back to L.A. and do the band and act like nothing's happened, but the rest of me just wants to get out of here. This is so messed up, man."

"Hey, no one said you have to act like nothing happened," Logan chided gently. "We're gonna stay here as long as we need to, and when we go back, you're gonna take your time and get back into the swing of things at your own pace."

"But, Gustavo-"

"We'll handle Gustavo," Logan assured him. "Correction: _Kendall _will handle Gustavo. You worry about you and your family, we'll worry about BTR."

James managed a small smile before Logan's phone buzzed in his pocket. He quickly removed it and scanned the screen before turning to James apologetically. "I'll be right back," he said, standing and heading towards the entry hall.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," the younger boy quickly assured him. "I just need to help them with something."

Logan disappeared quickly into the entrance hall, and James leaned back against the wall with a sigh. His own cellphone suddenly vibrated, and he lifted it quickly, confused.

**_Gwen's throwing up in the bathroom. _**

James immediately looked up, scanning the room for his sisters only to realize that neither of them was anywhere in sight. He stood, glancing at his parents before hurrying out into the entry hall himself. A group of signs helped him locate the restrooms quickly, and he found Macey standing uneasily outside the women's bathroom.

_'What happened?' _he signed, brow furrowing.

_'I don't know,' _Macey shrugged. _'She said not to get Mom, but she's been in there for like, twenty minutes.' _

_ 'Is there anyone else in there?' _

Macey shook her head, and James glanced around a bit hesitantly before pushing the door open. He stepped inside quickly, immediately grimacing as the stench of vomit hit his nose. He stepped forward, letting the door shut softly behind him. "Gwen?"

"Back off," Gwen choked out irritably before audibly gagging.

James rolled his eyes, coming forward towards the large stall at the end of the row - the only stall that was locked. "Do I need to get Mom?"

Another gag sounded. "No," Gwen spat, coughing a bit. The toilet flushed from inside the stall, and Gwen exited a few minutes later, face incredibly flushed and still a bit green.

"Are you okay?" James asked as she moved to the sink and began to wash her hands.

She nodded, turning the faucet off and reaching for a paper towel. "I think I just ate something weird."

James stared at her uneasily as she dabbed at her face with a damp towel. "Did you take anything today?" he asked quietly.

Gwen stopped, turning to face him with a dark look. "_No_. Do you really think I'd show up to this _high_?"

"I was just asking," James replied quickly, raising his hands.

"Thanks for the faith, Jamie." Gwen threw the paper towel in the trashcan and turned, yanking the door open and storming outside without another word. James huffed, exasperated, before following suit. What else was he supposed to think, when she showed up high to everything else?

He took the final turn that would lead him to the parlor when soft piano music began to play. He felt his stomach clench. This was it.

He passed the hallway leading to the outside when the door opened suddenly. A gust of cold air blew in, followed by the remaining members of BTR, and. . .

"Kelly," James breathed as the woman stepped forward and embraced him in a comforting hug. He returned the gesture almost immediately.

"Hi, sweetie," Kelly breathed, pulling back gently and giving him a somber smile. "I'm so sorry."

James found himself unable to open his mouth as a lump formed in his throat. He settled for an appreciative nod.

"Gustavo sends his love," Kelly continued. "Well, you know what I mean. He's taking care of Griffin, so I don't want you to worry about any of that stuff, okay?"

James nodded again, tilting his head. "'Gustavo's taking care of Griffin?' That's a new one."

"Freight Train's out front too," Kendall added from behind her. "He's gonna stand guard so Mr. G. can come in."

"You guys didn't have to come," James insisted, touched and disappointed all at the same time. Was it even physically possible for those around him to be any more put out than they already were? These were _his _problems, not theirs.

"Of course we did," Kelly answered. "Why wouldn't we?"

James struggled to come up with an answer but found none. Why wouldn't they?

Sylvia Garcia came up the steps that led to the funeral room, and she poked her head around the corner. "Boys, you'd better come in. We're starting."

James exchanged slightly nervous glances with his friends before turning and heading hesitantly down the stairs.

_God, please help me._

* * *

The proceedings were as somber as he could've imagined, if not more so. Any semblance of closure that the services were intended to provide was dashed by the ever-impending knowledge that Landon Diamond was forcibly removed from the world. It wasn't a natural death in any sense of the word, at least as far as they knew. The police had been tight-lipped about the investigation, and while it was driving James insane, a small part of him was thankful. He didn't really want to know what had happened.

Both his father and Nikki spoke at the funeral home, followed by a short prayer service by a deacon from St. Michael's Church. Those who attended paid their last respects, and then most of the group made the short journey to St. Michael's Parish for the service.

The Mass was somber, though, in all honesty, James hadn't been to a Catholic Mass in so long, he was unsure what was different between a regular Mass and a funeral service. His mother and Gwen sat towards the back, out of sight so they could participate minimally without drawing attention. James sat up front with his father, Nikki, and Macey, unconcerned with the prospect of the congregation seeing him refrain from kneeling. They all knew he was Jewish anyway, so what did it matter? No one would get mad.

The service was quick, and the occurrences at the cemetery even quicker. The priest said a few words before the small group retreated to their vehicles. James kept his eyes on Landon's casket, unable to move his gaze as they drove away.

Kelly and Freight Train refused to go to the luncheon afterward, citing the fact that they hadn't notified anyone of their arrival and refused to put Mr. Diamond out financially on such short notice. Andrew insisted, however, and James found himself sandwiched between Gwen and his mother at another long table at Shorty's Restaurant. Andrew and Nikki sat at the head, with Kelly and Freight Train across from James, and the boys with their respective families filling out the remaining seats. Dozens of relatives sat at the tables around them. James felt quickly overwhelmed.

Andrew and Nikki seemed to be ignoring each other completely, only briefly exchanging short, almost angry words every so often. James did his best to ignore it, instead trying to occupy his mind with anything but their current situation. He wasn't succeeding very well.

His family had scattered, with Gwen taking up residence at a far corner so she could scroll through her cellphone without the disruption of well-meaning relatives offering their condolences. Brooke moved to a table near the back of the restaurant with some old family friends. James didn't even remember their names. Nikki had vanished into the crowd at some point, seemingly intent on avoiding them all. It was improbable that James would ever come to like her, but his heart ached for her just the same.

The mood at the table was somber, even though the luncheon itself held an overall lighter tone. Andrew sat with an empty, disturbed look in his eyes that James was certain would haunt him forever. It sent a chill down his spine and made him hurriedly return his attention to his plate, which remained untouched.

He managed to hold it together until about an hour into the gathering. He knew their family meant well; quite a crowd had turned up for the service, and nearly everyone came to the luncheon, which James appreciated. His extended family wasn't very close, but at least he knew they still cared. Several relatives continued approaching his father and Nikki (and even Brooke) to offer their condolences, and while James knew they had good intentions, it was getting on his nerves.

_"How are you holding up?" _

Oh, just dandy. They were really doing great.

_"It must be so hard."_

What? Why would losing their son and brother, in what was presumably a homicide, be hard?

_"We're so sorry for the. . . circumstances." _

That particular one had been the icing on the cake. James fixed the speaker, an older woman, some aunt or cousin he didn't know, with a harsh glare. In Gwen's previously vacated spot beside him, Macey began to cry silently, putting her face in her hand as tears began to stream down her face. Their father moved for the first time in nearly an hour, rising to his feet and guiding Macey out of her chair and to the front lobby. James watched them from his seat, and his father said something unintelligible before pulling her into a hug. James felt the lump from earlier return to his throat, and he quickly turned back to the table, blinking back tears. His food suddenly made his stomach churn, and he pushed back his chair as quietly as he could before heading towards the bathroom.

He took the first stall, bracing himself against the walls and leaning forward slightly as he spat into the toilet. He wasn't even trying this time, and he was going to lose his breakfast. His recovery was going so well. . .

The restroom door suddenly opened, and James snapped his mouth shut, swallowing hard. The last thing he needed was some random cousin getting involved in-

"James?" a soft voice called out quietly.

James exhaled shakily. "Kendall."

"Are you okay?" Kendall asked quickly.

James nodded, even though his friend couldn't see him. "Yeah, just. . . I'm not doing it on purpose, I swear."

Kendall remained silent, and a quick rustling sound came before he said, "Here."

James turned, taking a small box Kendall was holding over the top of the stall door.

Kendall cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "When, um. . . when my dad died, I had trouble keeping stuff down for a while. . . 'cause of nerves and stuff. Mom used to make me take those so I could eat. They help and they don't really have any side effects or anything. And they're not. . . you can't really get hooked on them."

James turned the small box of generic pills over in his hands. A small smile played on his lips. "Thanks, Ken."

"Do you want me to stay, or-"

The door flew open and banged into the wall with a loud thud as someone rushed in. James hurriedly shoved the pills in his pocket and moved to unlatch the door.

Kendall was already speaking. "Hey, what are-"

James stepped out of the stall and was bit taken aback. Gwen was standing just beyond the doorway, cheeks flushed and looking more than a bit frazzled. "Gwen, this is the guys' room," he stated, interrupting Kendall.

"You need to come outside right now," Gwen began, ignoring his words.

"What's-"

"They're arresting Dad."

* * *

**And now things get interesting. I've got to say, the direction of this story has done a complete 180 from when I first started drafting it (way back in like, March I think). In some ways it's lighter but it's also gonna get way darker so. . .hold on tight peeps. **

**Please keep me in your prayers, as I keep you in mine. **

**God bless and much love, **

**-downtonabbey15**


	13. Protocol

**1/5/2020**

**AN: Hey howdy hey, folks! Here's a pretty long chapter for you guys! I've been kind of writer's block-y lately but hopefully, I'll be able to get a few more chapters done before I go to school in a few weeks (ugh). How can winter break already be almost over? (cries) Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! Also, PLEASE read my author's note at the end (sorry for the length). Nothing bad, I just clear a few things up that I kept forgetting about. :) **

**Warnings: Mentions of violence and death, possibly eating disorders.**

* * *

The restaurant seemed to have fallen into a hushed silence with all eyes on the front windows as James plowed towards the entrance. He threw open the front door, stopping with the boys and his sister hot on his heels. There were several squad cars parked in front of the restaurant, as well as across the street. The sidewalk was blocked off with cones and a guard on each side. Andrew was leaning against one of the patrol cars, hands behind his back and bound with a set of handcuffs as an officer kept a firm grip on his upper arm. Brooke was in the midst of what seemed to be a quickly escalating argument with Mr. Garcia.

"A little warning would have been nice," she snapped, arms folded across her chest. Nikki stood beside her, looking equally as upset but remaining silent.

"Brooke, you know I can't-"

"For goodness' sake, you think he killed his own kid?!"

"What's going on?" James suddenly interjected, coming to his mother's side.

Brooke fixed Carlos' father with a harsh glare. "What does it look like?"

"Brooke, it's protocol," Mr. Garcia continued, running a hand across his face. "I've got to do it." He sighed heavily. "There've been developments. Based on our current evidence, I have to make an arrest."

"What evidence?" Nikki scoffed.

"I can't talk about this here." He turned to Brooke. "I need all of you to come down to the station with me. You and James and Nikki and the girls. We have to speak with all of you."

Gwen scoffed. "I don't even live here anymore."

"I said I need to speak with all of you," Mr. Garcia snapped. He fixed her with a hard glare. "You wanna drive yourself, or would you like a ride in the back of one of my cars?"

Gwen heaved a sigh. "I'll drive myself," she answered, turning and heading back into Shorty's for her jacket and keys.

Mr. Garcia turned and leaned heavily on the side of the patrol car. "I'm sorry, Andy," he said quietly.

Andrew shook his head as the policeman guarding him opened the back door and civilly pushed him inside. "It's not your fault." He sent a quick glance to his family before Brooke grabbed Macey and headed towards their own car.

James fought to keep his voice from shaking. "Dad. . ."

Andrew shook his head, remarkably calm. "It's fine, Jamie. Just go. I'll see you there, okay?" James nodded. "Everything's fine." The second policeman closed the door and hurried around the other side, climbing into the driver's seat. A few moments later, the car peeled away from the curb and headed down the street, turning left at the light to head towards the station.

James felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he turned. He was met with the worried and confused faces of his friends. "Come on," Kendall said quietly. "My Mom'll drive you."

* * *

"This shouldn't take long."

The reassuring statement from Mr. Garcia did nothing for James as the door thumped closed behind him. The room looked just like every interview room on tv, with grey walls and a single table with two chairs to the left and absolutely nothing else inside. Mr. Garcia headed around the table and motioned for James to take the chair opposite him as he sat down. He set a file on the table and flipped it open with a sigh.

"I just need to ask you a few questions," Mr. Garcia assured him. "You're not in trouble, I promise."

"Where's my mom?" James asked, pulling the chair out so he could sit down. His family had been out of sight by the time they'd arrived, and James was pulled aside almost immediately by Mr. Garcia, leaving the boys and Kendall's mother and Katie in the lobby of the station.

"She's in another room with one of my officers," Mr. Garcia answered. "So are the girls. I just finished speaking with Gwen." He sighed heavily fixed James with a defeated expression. "She's um. . ." He stopped, seeming to decide against whatever he'd been planning to say.

"She wasn't always like that," James said quietly.

Mr. Garcia nodded. "Yeah, I know." He sighed again, coming through the file before pulling out a few sheets of paper. "This'll be quick, James," he promised again. "I just need to ask you some questions."

"My dad didn't do anything wrong."

". . . I believe that."

James sat forward. "Then why did you arrest him?"

"James. . ." Mr. Garcia ran a hand across his face. "I didn't want to start with this, but. . . Based on new. . . evidence, I _had _to arrest him. Legally, I had no choice."

"What evidence?" He regretted the question almost instantly when he saw the dark look in Mr. Garcia's eyes.

The older man folded his hands in front of him, seemingly preparing himself. James was fairly certain he stopped breathing as he waited. "We found Landon about a dozen miles from where the boys found the car. Nearby. . . we found a hammer. A hammer from the toolkit in the back of your father's SUV. Looked like someone tried to bury it but was in a rush so they just left it. We were able to pull a few fingerprints off of the handle, as well as from the interior of the vehicle." He took a deep breath. "James, your father's DNA was all we found."

". . . But it was his hammer. Of course-"

"Of course his fingerprints would be all over it," Mr. Garcia conceded. "I know. And those guys could have been wearing gloves, so it would make sense. But. . . there should be unknown DNA in that car. Even if someone was wearing gloves or a mask or whatever. . . there should be hair or fluid or blood or _something_. When they stopped in the woods, they got Landon out of that car seat without breaking a strap. That means those guys somehow wrangled a worked-up kid outta that car without getting so much as a scratch. . . or Landon knew the person and didn't put up a fight when they took him out." He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "Forensically, there was no one else in that car, James. According to everything in front of me. . . I have to charge your dad."

James bit his lip, shaking his head as he struggled to find his voice. "He didn't do this."

Mr. Garcia nodded. "I don't think he did. I think something else is going on here, and that's why I need you and your family to help me. I need to know anything you know."

"You think someone framed him?"

". . . I'm not thinking that cynically yet, but. . . it's a possibility. Right now, I think it's a very unfortunate set of circumstances. Sometimes that happens."

"And people go to prison because of that? Because of . . . circumstances?"

Mr. Garcia hesitated. "Some do," he said carefully. "And it's not right. But that's not what I handle. What I handle is determining whether a person goes to trial." He sighed. "I don't think it'll come to that, but. . . we're covering our bases." He ran a hand tiredly through his hair again. "Anything you can tell me could help, even if you think it's insignificant."

James nodded.

"How was your father when you were growing up? Did he have a quick temper?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Was he ever violent with you kids?"

"Never."

"What about your mother? Did she ever let on that he'd hit her?"

"No. Even when they fought, nothing. . . they never put a hand on each other."

Mr. Garcia swallowed hard. "Did your father ever. . . touch you in a way that was-"

"_Absolutely not_."

Carlos' father nodded. "Have you been in contact with your family in the last few months?"

"Um. . . yeah, sort of. I mean, I talk to my parents but not every day."

"Did they ever let on that there were issues? Maybe. . . anything serious going on?"

James' brow furrowed. "No. Why, was there?"

Mr. Garcia hesitated. James noticed. "That's what I'm asking you. Did your father mention any problems with people? Issues with business colleagues or coworkers or friends?"

James shook his head. "Not that I remember."

"What about your mother or stepmother? Do they have any issues with anyone?"

"I don't think my Mom does. And I don't talk to Nikki, so. . ."

Mr. Garcia nodded, setting his pen down and looking over the paper before shoving it back into the file folder. "That's about all I need for now. It's just for character testimony, in case he goes to trial."

". . .Do you think he will?"

The officer shook his head. "I doubt it. The evidence is circumstantial, and we have good character testimonies. They wouldn't have much to go on if they tried." He sighed. "I'm gonna do everything I can, James."

James struggled to keep his voice even. "I know you will."

Mr. Garcia gave him a somber smile before rising. "Let's head back out. I'm sure your mother's finished."

* * *

His mother certainly _was _finished. Brooke Diamond was already in the lobby, appearing to have a heated discussion with a young officer at the counter with Nikki and a still hand-cuffed Andrew by her side. Another officer stood on his left, guarding him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mr. Diamond's bail is set at $750,000."

". . .Do you think we have almost $1 million lying around?!"

"That's actually pretty low. Most murderers' are set way higher."

"I'm not a murderer," Andrew spat as Brooke narrowed her eyes at the man, clearly new at his job since he had the tact of a brick wall.

"Jeremiah," Mr. Garcia said in a warning tone as he and James entered the room.

James walked hesitantly over to Mrs. Knight, who was sitting alone in a seating area directly adjacent to the counter. His sisters were in the general, vicinity, spaced out in chairs far apart from one another. "Mama K?" he asked quietly, sending a glance to Mr. Garcia as he tried to pacify his parents.

"The boys are in the back," Mrs. Knight answered quickly, patting the seat beside her. James took it. "Your mother's trying to post bail, but I don't think that man's being very cooperative."

A few seats away, Gwen scoffed, keeping her eyes on her cellphone. "The cop or Dad?"

"Can we give you half today and the other in. . . a couple of days?" Andrew asked Mr. Garcia.

Carlos' father shook his head. "Andy, you know I can't do that."

"I'm not sleeping in a cell for something I didn't do."

Brooke sighed in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned to Andrew. "I'm gonna go call my business manager," she said. "See what he can come up with."

"Brooke don't do that. This isn't your job."

She nodded. "It is. I'll be right back." She headed for the bathroom, pulling her cellphone from her pocket as she did so. The entrance door of the station creaked open, and she turned.

James looked in the direction of the sound as well. Standing in the doorway was Mato Wilson, his father's colleague and one of his closest friends. Unsure what the man was doing there, James nearly voiced a greeting before he stopped.

The room had gone deafeningly silent, save for the thump of the door as it closed behind the newcomer. Brook had stopped in her tracks, staring almost shell-shocked before turning back to Mr. Garcia with an accusatory glare. Nikki quickly tensed, glancing between Andrew and the other man nervously. Mr. Garcia angrily whispered something unintelligible to the younger policeman. Gwen and Mrs. Knight looked equally as confused, and James glanced at his father curiously before a dark feeling swept over him.

His father flushed a deep shade of red as he narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" he spat with a venom James was unaccustomed to. The tone of voice startled him, and he glanced quickly to the other man, confused. What was going on?

Mato held his hands up defensively, inching forward but remaining by the door. "I just came to help you-"

"I don't want your help!"

"Yeah, well, you need it."

"I don't _want it_ or _need it_! Now, get away from my family!"

Mr. Garcia came around the front of the desk, hands out as though he was prepared to keep the two men apart. "Andrew, maybe-"

"Craminy sakes, Andy, let it go!"

Andrew got, if possible, even redder. He looked as though he were about to have a stroke. "'Let it go?!'" He lunged forward, screaming almost unintelligibly in Mato's face. Brooke cried out, launching herself forward and yelling at him to stop as the officers and Mr. Garcia did the same. He grabbed Andrew around the front, dragging him backwards and screaming for him to calm down as Mato backed up into the corner of the room, startled. James and Gwen were on their feet in an instant, and Mrs. Knight rose as well, putting a hand on James' shoulder as if to keep him in place (like he was going to throw himself in the middle of _that_. . . yeah, okay).

It only took a few moments for Carlos' father to gain the upper hand. He hauled Andrew to the side and threw him into one of the lobby's chairs, keeping a firm hold on the collar of his shirt. "You're not helping yourself!" he snapped, seething. He turned to Jeremiah, the younger cop who'd by now come around the desk with his hand on the grip of his taser. "Take him back there," he ordered, gesturing to Mato with a distasteful tone. Jeremiah quickly obeyed with a nod and urged Mato into one of the interview rooms.

Brooke hurried across the room as the rest of its occupants stood silent in shock. "Gwen," she said quietly to her eldest. "Take James and Macey home."

"And miss all the fun here?"

"Gwen, _now_."

Gwen sighed but backed off, muttering an, "Okay," before grabbing her keys and motioning for her younger siblings to follow her. James reluctantly complied, shooting a worried glance at his father as they headed out the door.

. . ._What was going on?_

* * *

"What the heck happened back there?" James asked, breaking the silence as they drove home a few minutes later. He swung around to face Macey in the backseat. She shrugged, shaking her head.

"Mato and Dad were always like this." He crossed his fingers. "What happened with them? Why was Dad so upset?"

Macey shook her head again. _'I don't know,' _she signed.

James huffed and turned back around, letting his head thump against his seat.

Beside him, Gwen sighed, adjusting her hands on the steering wheel. "I'm sure your fans will have a field day with this," she muttered as they sped along a back road.

From the passenger seat, James sent her a glare. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying," she protested, raising a hand in defense. "Paparazzi's gonna go nuts." She scoffed, taking a turn rather quickly. "Do you think he did it?"

James turned to her, brow furrowed. "You're kidding me, right? Do you know him at all?"

"Uh, we _all _thought we knew him, until suddenly there was a fourth Diamond child that didn't come out of Mom."

James swallowed his next remark as his cellphone buzzed in his hand.

"Who is it?"

"Kendall."

Gwen took her eyes off the road for a moment to try to sneak a peek at his screen. "What's going on?"

James rolled his eyes. "Let me read it first. . .they're on their way home now, I think." He squinted, struggling to read the text message as the car slammed into and out of yet _another _pothole. Was she _aiming _for them?

"Did he say what went down after we left?"

"No."

"Wow, he's helpful." The car suddenly lurched, and Gwen slammed on the breaks with a curse. "Son of a. . ." The vehicle came to a grinding halt as smoke began steaming up from the hood. Gwen threw the gearshift into park and yanked her keys out before kicking open her door in frustration. "Of all the lousy, no good, dirty rotten. . ." she trailed off as the door shut behind her and she approached the front of the car.

James huffed, reluctantly following suit and shutting his door to join her at the front of the car as she popped the hood. Smoke billowed out, making them both cough.

"Engine block's cracked," Gwen explained, leaning over the car to peer inside. "This stupid thing always does this."

"Well, maybe if you got a car that wasn't last serviced in the 80s, this wouldn't happen."

"James?"

"What?"

"Shut up," Gwen grunted in frustration, putting her hands on her hips. "This thing's not budging."

"Well, what do you normally do for it?"

". . . I take it to a guy who wields it shut."

"You can't just get a new one?"

Gwen scoffed. "You'd have to get a new engine, and I can't afford a new engine." She winced, gesturing feebly to the car. "Not that this fossil could handle one, anyway." She slammed the hood shut a bit more forcefully than necessary and headed around the driver's side of the car. She yanked open the back door. "Come on," she told Macey. "We're gonna push."

"We're gonna push?" James echoed in dismay. "We're like, two miles from Mom's!"

"I'm not paying a tow truck to pull this thing two miles when we can do it for free." She moved around to the back, chuckling sarcastically. "Good thing I didn't wear heels today."

James sighed heavily, pulling off his suit jacket and chucking it into the front seat before rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. He glanced at Macey, still planted firmly in the backseat. "Mace, come on."

_'I'm not pushing this car.' _

". . . Just, come on, okay? Don't start anything."

_'I'm not starting anything.' _

"No, you're just-"

"Are you guys coming?" Gwen asked, coming around to Macey's side of the car. Macey signed to her, and Gwen looked at James a bit expectantly since she'd never learned to sign.

"She says she's not pushing," James answered reluctantly.

Gwen wiped the back of her hand across her nose before sighing in annoyance. "Well," she began, a bit irritably, "if you want, we can leave you here while we push, and you can hitchhike with whoever drives by. Because we're _not _pushing this car with you in it."

Macey stared at her, crossing her arms over her chest. _'I'm. Not. Pushing.' _

Gwen glared at her for a moment, then scoffed and returned to the back of the car, muttering something.

_'What did you say?' _Macey climbed out of the car, turning to face her. _'What did you say_?' she mouthed so her sister could understand her.

Gwen straightened up but leaned on the trunk of the car. "I said cut the entitled bull crap."

_'I'm not entitled.' _

"Yes, you are. Mom and Dad _cater _to you. Everyone has to learn to sign because Macey doesn't want to talk. Macey needs special schooling. Macey can't get a normal job, so Dad lets her work with him for twice the money he'd pay other kids."

_'That's not true!' _

"Yes, it is! They baby you; they always have. I didn't get that when I was a kid. If I had a problem, I dealt with it on my own."

_'Yeah, we've all seen how you deal with things.' _

"Okayyyyy!" James said quickly, coming around the car and standing between them. "I think we're done here. How about we leave the car and tell Mom when she gets back, huh? Then she'll just call a tow truck herself," he turned to Gwen, "and you won't even have to pay for it."

"I'm not leaving my car out here!" Gwen argued.

Macey cocked her head to the side. _'Why? What else is in it?' _

"Stop, now," James whispered to her through gritted teeth.

"None of your business," Gwen spat.

"Stop," James snapped at her, keeping himself in between the two.

Gwen huffed. "See? You yell at me but not at her. You guys _coddle _her! You're such a baby!"

_'Yeah, well at least I'm not a crackhead that dropped out of high school.' _

"_Macey!_"

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Say that again," she challenged, taking a step forward.

James fought to keep her back. "Stop it!"

"No!" Gwen cried, pushing him firmly aside. "Say that again and see what happens!"

A sudden blast of a car horn startled them, and James turned as his mother switched her emergency blinkers on and pulled to the side of the road behind them. She climbed out, irritated. "What in Heaven's name are you guys doing on the side of the road?"

"Her car broke down," James tried to explain, raising his voice to be heard above Gwen's yelling.

"And you didn't text me?"

"I didn't get there yet, Mom!" James shouted angrily. Couldn't his mother see he was trying to stop bigger problems from starting?

"Excuse me, would you like to rethink that tone, James?"

"Say that again!" Gwen continued beside him.

Macey inched backward but crossed her arms over her chest. _'At least I'm not a crackhead that dropped out of high school.' _

Gwen gave her a look that could kill. "Yeah, well at least I can _speak_. Heck, a dog's got one up on you."

_'B-back off.' _Macey visibly struggled to get the word out, even though no sound came out of her mouth, and James winced.

"'B-b-back off!'" Gwen mocked.

Macey launched herself forward, colliding with Gwen's midsection and just about knocking her off her feet. James almost cussed out loud, staggering back as they nearly fell into him. His mother screamed, then seemed to get a hold of herself enough to yell, "James, stop them!"

James stared at her a bit incredulously as Gwen grabbed a fistful of Macey's hair and took them both to the ground. "I'm not a referee, Mom!"

Gwen cried out as Macey sent a kick into her shin, and Brooke dove forward, catching Gwen by the collar of her dress and yanking her off Macey before pulling her youngest haphazardly to her feet. "_Stop it!_" she bellowed in a tone that made all three children freeze. "_Right now_!" She gave Macey a shove in the opposite direction. _"_Get in the car." She exhaled shakily, running a tired hand across her forehead. "Thank you for the help, James," she uttered sarcastically before turning and heading for her car.

James scoffed, speechless. Why was everything his fault?! He huffed, turning to face Gwen before he realized she was still on the ground. She was sitting hunched over on her heels, holding her stomach and looking slightly green.

"Gwen, she didn't hit you that hard," James said quietly, unsure if he was trying to joke with her or not. Gwen didn't answer but continued breathing hard. "Are you okay?" James asked, stepping towards her cautiously and reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

His sister's head snapped up almost immediately as she glared at him. "Don't touch me."

The venom in her voice startled him, and he pulled his hand back. "Wh. . . I was just trying to he-"

"I don't want your help!" she snapped. "Just get away from me. Tell Mom I'm walking."

"You're gonna walk two mi-"

"_James_."

"Okay!" He scoffed, throwing his hands up defensively and heading for the car. "Do me a favor and go back to your crummy boyfriend," he called over his shoulder.

"Will do. . ."

James huffed, yanking open the passenger door of his mother's car and climbing inside. "She said she's walking," he informed her as he closed the door. Brooke didn't seem to question it. She put the car in drive and took off down the road. James resisted the worrying urge he felt to look back at his sister as they drove away. She didn't want his help.

He was done caring.

* * *

**AN: Hey dudes! Okay, so I wanted to clear some things up in case anybody was confused, or just in case you guys were wondering. And I certainly don't want to offend anyone, so PLEASE read this. **

**I wanted to point out that the Diamonds use a form of Sign Language known as Pidgin Signed English (PSE). Recently, this was renamed to "Conceptually Accurate Signed English" but I'm going to stick with PSE for now. PSE is NOT ASL, but I call it as such in this story so nobody gets confused. There are several different types of Sign Language used in the U.S., but PSE is reportedly the most common used among people whose primary language is English (ie, those who learned to sign later in life. It is used in both Deaf and Hearing households). **

**ASL is not English. It has its own syntax and grammar, among other differences. ASL's syntax (aka the word order in the sentence) typically follows the pattern of "Time + Topic + Comment" in very simple sentences. ASL also uses an entirely different grammar. For example, the word "beautiful" is conveyed by using the sign "beauty." The "-ful" is dropped, as is the case in many added endings in English words like "-ing" etc. If a person was to say, "She is beautiful," in ASL, they would sign, "Beauty + she." ASL drops unnecessary words like "be" verbs, among several others. ****It would very difficult for me to write any signed lines in this story using ASL grammar and syntax since I would probably mess up the complex sentences****. **

**PSE, on the other hand, uses all the same signs and grammar as ASL, however, the syntax is switched to that of English. In other words, PSE also drops the added endings of words like "-ful" and "-ing," and does not sign "be" verbs, but its word order is the same as English. "She is beautiful" would be signed, "She + beauty." PSE is not considered a language on its own because it is a pidgin language (a combination of two languages).**

**PSE is not to be confused with SEE (Signed Exact English). This is completely different but it's not relevant to the forms of Sign Language used in this story. **

**Since Macey is hearing and the Diamonds' first language is English, I find it highly unlikely that they would use the correct form of ASL, particularly since James is the only family member who signs _back _to his sister (if I didn't make that clear before, I am now, lol. Brooke and Andrew know PSE but do not sign back to Macey. James does). I think it's much more realistic that James and Macey would simply use the signs but put them in the English word order, especially since they learned to sign at later ages. PSE also makes it much easier to speak and sign at the same time, which is why James periodically does so. I'm sure some people can speak English and sign in ASL at the same time, but I certainly can't, lol. I use PSE (no, I'm not fluent, but I'm trying). **

**PSE is easier for those who want to sign but don't frequently interact with the Deaf and HOH Community, because the syntax is similar to English. But ASL is the true language that it derives from, and I think any signer should make it their goal to become as fluent in ASL as possible, out of respect. **

**End of my rant, lol. OBVIOUSLY, none of that information is mine. It came from various websites on ASL and other forms of Sign Language, which I, of course, can't post the links to. But absolutely none of that came from my own head. The examples used in explaining the syntax and grammar are also extremely common and can be found on several websites or YouTube videos. **

**I just wanted to clear that up, though, in case anyone was curious and also so that no one got upset. So, yes, James and Macey don't use true ASL, but I'm calling it that just for the sake of this story. No offense intended. **

**Anywayyyyyyy, I hope you guys liked this chapter! Thank you for sticking with me, and thank you if you got through this last note, lol. Please review! **

**God bless and much love,**

**-downtonabbey15**

**P.S. Please let me know if any of the above information is wrong. I really fact checked myself but please don't hesitate to correct me. :) **


	14. Olive Branch

**2/16/2020**

**Ba da bing, ba da boom, here's a new chapter my peeps! I hope you guys like this one! Unfortunately (I'm so sorry), this chapter has a little section towards the end that is specifically from Gwen and Macey's POVs, so I'm super sorry if you guys hate OCs. This shouldn't happen again. GWen is just so fun to write for, though. She's like something straight out of "Mean Girls." **

**Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Please review!**

* * *

_"Jay Jay. . . Jamie. . . James. . . hey!" _

James' eyes snapped open at the sound of his brother's voice, and it took a few moments for him to realize that Landon wasn't standing over him, incessantly prodding him as he usually did when James found time to make it home. He groaned, turning onto his back and bringing his hands to his face. He winced as his belt cut into his stomach and glanced down. He hadn't even changed last night, he realized. He'd returned home from the station with his family and immediately crashed on his bed still wearing his suit. No wonder he was so uncomfortable.

He turned and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. _6:59 a.m. _Well, wasn't that lovely? He knew there was little chance of him getting back to sleep, not without changing his clothes, at least. And that would wake him right up anyways, so. . . He sat up a bit begrudgingly, reaching down to undo his belt. It was practically cutting into him since he'd had to cinch it so tightly. Yanking it from the loops, he tossed it beside him on the bed tiredly.

He'd skipped dinner last night, and while he found it odd his mother didn't come up and force him downstairs, he was grateful. Although really. . . he supposed his weight didn't even really matter anymore. His brother was dead, and his father was in jail and could go to trial for his murder. There was a very good chance that BTR could be going on a hiatus. . . at least until the whole thing "blew over," if that was even physically possible. James wasn't sure how something like this could ever blow over.

A soft thump in the hallway caught his attention, and he stood and moved to open the door. Macey was in the hallway with her back to him, slinging her schoolbag over her shoulder as she closed her own bedroom door quietly. She turned, jumping a bit when she saw him.

_'Sorry, I tried to be quiet.' _

James shook his head. "I was already up. Are you going to school?" She nodded, though it was a stupid question. She was wearing her uniform. Where else would she be going? "You don't wanna wait a few days?"

_'Wait for what? I've missed too much, I have to go back.'_

James figured that was true, if Macey really had missed over a week due to the search and. . . and the services. But. . . "Is that a good idea?" he asked. "I mean, kids are gonna talk."

A look he didn't quite understand crossed her face for a moment before she shook her head. _'Kids are gonna talk anyway.' _

They stood in silence for a moment before she hitched her backpack on her shoulder and signed a quick, _'__Mom's driving me, and then she's heading over to help Dad, if you need her. __See you later.' _She padded quietly down the stairs and out the front door, leaving James in silence. He sighed, glancing at Gwen's door and straining to hear if she was up yet (and also partly to ensure she'd actually _returned _after the fiasco yesterday afternoon). He heard nothing and retreated back to his own bedroom, shutting the door and changing into a t-shirt and sweatpants before collapsing back onto his bed.

He must have dozed off, because the sharp ring of his cellphone jolted him awake. He sat up and fumbled around on his nightstand for a moment before grabbing the device. He flipped it open and pressed it against his ear. "Hello?"

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Kendall asked through the speaker. James could hear some sort of commotion in the background.

James shook his head, forgetting that Kendall couldn't see him. "Nah, I was just laying here." He glanced at the clock by his bed. _7:43. _"What's up? This is early for you."

"I just got off the phone with Gustavo."

". . . Okay, that's _inhumanly_ early for him."

Kendall chuckled lightly, although he didn't sound very amused. "Griffin wants us back by this afternoon."

James' heart sank, and his mouth ran dry. This afternoon? They'd just buried his brother less than twenty-four hours ago, his dad was in jail, and Griffin wanted him back in the studio?

"Gustavo got us plane tickets for tomorrow," Kendall continued. "He says he'll just fudge the time cards a bit."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kendall chuckled. "He had to repeat it a few times. I couldn't believe it." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, mom took Kelly back to the airport, but Freight Train's staying. He's gonna escort us on the plane tomorrow cause. . . well, Gustavo just, thinks it's a good idea."

"Yeah. . ."

"You okay, man?"

James sighed, running a hand across his face. "I'm fine."

". . . James-"

"Kendall, I promise I'm okay," James insisted. "In fact, I was totally gonna go get breakfast right now."

"You were?"

"100%. I'll even send you an obnoxious selfie of me eating a waffle if you want."

". . . I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I'll actually look forward to seeing that."

James laughed a bit stiffly. "Give me a few minutes to actually make one without burning it, and then I'll send it."

"Or we can totally come over and all make waffles. And maybe break out some junk food-"

"There's no junk food in my mom's house, Ken. You know that."

"Then I'll tell Carlos to bring something. He'll get his hands on some good, sugar-filled, worry abolishing crap."

"I'll be here," James chuckled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He could practically hear Kendall's relieved smile over the phone. It made the day somewhat easier to bear, for whatever it was worth. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Later, man." The dial tone abruptly assaulted his eardrums, and he quickly flicked his phone shut. Sighing, he heaved himself out of bed and headed for the stairs, hoping they actually had waffle mix in the house. Since he and Gwen had moved out and Macey didn't live with their mother full-time, it was unlikely. He'd never seen his mother eat a waffle before; too much fat, she said. Internally groaning at the thought of having to get dressed and go to the store, he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and stopped.

Gwen was, surprisingly, very much awake and standing at the kitchen counter with her back to him. The scent of freshly brewed coffee was ripe in the air, and James peered a bit questioningly at her. Last he'd known, Gwen _hated _coffee.

"Hey," he said hesitantly, stepping forward and coming around the side of the counter.

Gwen glanced up briefly as he entered, then quickly returned her eyes to her mug of coffee. "Hey."

James stared at her, moving across the room to the cupboards and pulling out a mug for himself. "How was your two-mile walk?"

Gwen stirred her drink slowly, keeping her eyes down. "Long. I went to the store and I caught a bus back."

James poured himself a cup, grimacing as he took a swig of it black. "Your car still out there?" he asked, moving to the fridge and grabbing the milk jug.

She shook her head. "It's out front. Mom called a guy, made him fix it overnight."

James scoffed, adding a more than generous amount of milk to his drink. "Fun for him." Gwen didn't answer, and James put the milk back before grabbing his mug and leaning against the counter. Still, his sister said nothing, and James fidgeted under the awkward silence. "Um. . .the guys are coming over in a few," he said eventually. "We're gonna make waffles and stuff, try to relax before we go back tomorrow. You can. . . you can hang with us, if you want."

Gwen quickly shook her head, standing and downing the last of her coffee before moving towards the sink. "No, thanks," she replied, dumping the mug in the sink and moving past him. She headed for the stairs.

"Are you okay?" James asked quietly, a bit hesitant but worried none the less. He'd been in the room for almost five minutes and she hadn't bitten his head off yet. It was a bit concerning.

Gwen turned, shrugging and scoffing lightly. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

James shook his head. "I-I don't know. . . I just. . ."

She turned the corner to the enter the foyer the housed the stairs, and James trailed off. "Okay, then. . ." he muttered with a sigh. He really couldn't seem to do anything right, could he?

* * *

The other boys arrived shortly afterwards, with Carlos dragging his younger brother Julio in tow and Katie coming over as well. Breakfast was an interesting experience; Logan remained glued to his laptop, refusing to do anything until he finished the homework he'd been electronically assigned by Ms. Collins. Carlos and Kendall shrugged it off, fully intending to procrastinate as usual (they really _did _do their best work under pressure. . . no adults seemed to believe them, though), and James did his best to push the thought from his mind. He often turned in little to no homework, not because he wanted to fail but because school wasn't his priority in life. He did enough to pass, since he didn't want his mother calling and getting on his case about his grades. Now, though. . . he barely had the energy to get out of bed. How would he do almost two weeks' worth of make-up work?

He buried his worry over the course of the day; Carlos had been determined to make smiley-face shaped waffles, even in Mrs. Diamond's ordinary shaped waffle iron. He . . . actually _succeeded_, although James wasn't sure that was the right word since his mother would now need a new waffle iron. Oh, well. She never used it, and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

They spent the majority of the day in the basement, unsure of what to do besides take turns playing air hockey and throwing darts. Video games were almost always a guarantee, but Kendall was hesitant. They were violent, and while violence had never been an issue before. . . it certainly was now, given their situation. It seemed as though everyone else was thinking the same thing too, because the awkwardness seemed to marr any potentially good time they may have had. All of that, coupled with the thought that on any other occasion, Landon would have been hanging out with them. . .

They _did _finally get a smile on James' face when Julio somehow managed to shoot the puck right off the table and into Logan's forehead. Kendall didn't feel a bit bad for laughing, since Logan was clearly okay a few moments later. He was certain the younger boy had exaggerated his pain a bit, if only to make James laugh.

Any good feelings they had were dashed early that afternoon, when the door at the top of the stairs squeaked open and Mrs. Diamond peered down at them. She looked terribly shaken. "Kids, could you go home please?" she asked quietly. There wasn't a hint of anger in her voice, and it took James aback. His friends seemed to feel the same way, because they quickly sent him somber looks and obeyed, heading up the stairs as his mother moved aside to let them past. Once they'd gone, she motioned for him to follow her.

James felt nothing but dread as he headed up the basement steps, moving cautiously into the living room. Gwen was already there, standing hesitantly by the couch, her eyes flickering quickly between her mother and brother. Brooke rubbed a hand tiredly across her forehead, motioning to the couch as she did so. "Sit down, kids."

Gwen tentatively sat down, and James followed suit, looking up at his mother worriedly. "Mom?"

Brooke sighed, sitting down in the armchair across from themand dropping her purse on the floor beside her. "They called in a homicide detective today," she announced softly, meeting their eyes.

Beside him, Gwen swore under her breath. James' brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

His mother sat forward. "That means. . . they're going to start building a case against your father. And we need to be prepared for that."

"W-. . .prepared for what?" James questioned. "They can't send him to prison, they don't have enough evidence for that."

"Mr. Beck at the gas station never saw your brother," Brooke said. "He never even saw the car. The detective is going to try to argue that your father set the entire thing up, to turn suspicion away from him. There's _plenty _of evidence against him, James."

Gwen sighed, dropping back into the seat with a light thump. "So, he's gonna go to court?"

Brooke was hesitant. "It's possible. . . it's likely, to tell you the truth."

"But that's just one guy's opinion about what happened," James protested. "He wasn't there, no one was there. Dad's got like, seventy-something people working for him that'll vouch for him. He's not a psychopath."

"It's not that simple, James."

"Why not?"

"Because your father has an assault charge!" That promptly shut James up, and the tension in the room rose considerably. "As in battery," Brooke quickly continued. "'Assault with intent to harm' or something along those lines."

"Since when?!"

"That's not what matters!" Brooke snapped. "What matters is that with that charge, they can prove that violence is in his nature. There's a very real chance your father is going to prison, and he will drag this entire family down with him if we're not careful!" She took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. "James, absolutely _nothing _about any of this to the press, do you understand?"

James scoffed. "Wow, thanks Mom. You think I'd tell them about this?! They already know most of it anyway!"

"I don't care what they know. The point is, they will get no more information from this family. You go back to Los Angeles tomorrow, and you smile, and you tell them everything is under control."

"Under control?!"

"James!" She gave him a look that was almost pleading. "You know what I mean. Just. . .for your sake, don't talk about it. Let it unfold over here. Don't dredge it up two-thousand miles away."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Gwen chimed in.

An uncomfortable pause from their mother came. "You can leave whenever you want. There's nothing else for you to do, so. . ." She sighed heavily, standing and grabbing her purse. "I'm heading over to the courthouse before they close."

James' brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I've got to start filing for custody of your sister, since _obviously _your father can't be the custodial parent from a jail cell." James and Gwen grimaced in unison, preparing themselves for a rant on the divorce when their mother cursed under her breath. "James," she said quickly. "Can you pick up Macey from school? I don't want her walking but the courthouse closes in half an hour and the sooner I get that paperwork-"

"I'll do it," Gwen piped up.

The others fell silent for a moment. "You'll do what?" Brooke questioned.

"I'll get Macey from school."

She scoffed. "Yeah, absolutely not."

"Uh, James doesn't even have a car to go pick her up in. _I do_."

"I don't need two people in this family arrested for murder charges in the same week."

"I'm not gonna murder her."

"I didn't say it would be _you_."

Gwen groaned in frustration. "Come on," she whined. "I know where St. Michael's is, I can have us back in an hour. It can be like. . .sister bonding. Don't you always want us to do that?"

James stared at her incredulously, while Brooke just narrowed her eyes. "What have you smoked today?"

"Nothing! Geez, can't I extend an olive branch?"

Her mother sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes tiredly before giving a reluctant shake of her head. "One hour, you understand me?" she said firmly.

Gwen nodded quickly, rising and grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table before hurrying out the front door. Brooke exchanged a rather puzzled look with James before heading for her own vehicle.

* * *

A sharp knock on the car window made Gwen turn, and she quickly rolled it down as a woman, presumably a school administrator, peered inside. "Miss, you can't park here," she said firmly, pointing to several **No Parking **signs spread out across the sidewalk of the school's side entrance.

Gwen pushed her sunglasses higher up her nose and furrowed her brow. She was absolutely not in the mood to deal with this today. "Yeah, see, I'm already parked."

"This is for parent pick-up only," the woman continued.

Gwen nodded. "Yeah. I know."

The woman looked her up and down a bit before raising an eyebrow. "And which child is yours?"

"I'm here to get my sister," Gwen answered, rolling her eyes. "So, unless you have some sort of special 'sister pick-up' zone. . ."

"If you're picking up a child, you must park in the parents' parking lot." The woman pointed across the walkway behind her to a small parking lot.

"Yeah, but I don't have a _permit _to park in that lot. That'll get me a ticket."

"Then I suggest you request one at the office. Otherwise, parking here will get you _towed_, and I promise you, that's much more expensive than the ticket."

Gwen exhaled deeply, bringing her arm up to lean on the passenger seat beside her. "Ma'am, do you know who my mother is?"

The woman chuckled. "This is the 21st century. You can't just wave a wad of money in my face and expect to get what you want."

"I'm flattered you think I have a wad of money to wave around," Gwen joked, gesturing to her poor excuse of a car and hoping it would garner a smile. It didn't. She sighed. "Brooke Diamond. Brooke Diamond's our mom. Now, if you want, I can call her and-"

"No, no," the woman said quickly. She straightened up and looked at the vehicle reluctantly. "I'd rather not. . . I'd rather not see her today. Tell your sister to be prompt."

Gwen smiled smugly. "Will do," she answered as the woman headed into the building. She leaned back in her seat, scrolling through her cellphone as teenagers began filing out.

_"Macey!"_

The call was obnoxiously loud and got her attention, and she glanced up in relief because she was wholeheartedly expecting the office woman to call the tow company anyway, and she wanted to get out of the lot before she got her license number. She could see Macey heading in her direction, towards the parking lot behind her. She was being trailed by a girl her own age, who was rushing to catch up with her.

"Mace, come on," the girl was saying, grunting in frustration when Macey continued walking as if she hadn't heard. "You're not making this easy!"

_That _seemed to get Macey's attention, and she stopped spun around to face the girl.

_'I'm not making this easy?!' _

"My dad's trying to help!"

_'We don't want your help! We don't want anything from you!' _She turned and kept walking once more, and the girl followed.

"This is so stupid, can't you just let it go?"

_'Let it go?!' _

"If this was all reversed, and it was _James_, you'd be on his side."

_'. . . No, I wouldn't. How can you say that?' _

Frustrated, Gwen laid on the horn. Both girls turned to look. She leaned out the passenger window. "Let's go my sister from the same mister! I haven't got all day!"

Several kids stopped and stared, and Macey looked absolutely mortified. Gwen sat back in her seat, pleased. _Point her_.

Macey reluctantly approached and came to a slow stop by Gwen's Dodge, keeping a good five feet back as she bent her head to peer questioningly through the window. Gwen rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to lay on the horn again. "You are not five," she began, "and this is not a middle school stranger danger video, so get in the car, will ya?" She was firm, but she sounded considerably less irritated than she had in previous days.

Macey reluctantly threw her bag in the backseat with a thud and climbed into the passenger seat beside her sister. She buckled her seatbelt and crossed her arms over her chest, just as the girl from before came up to the window and peered inside. "I didn't know you were back," she said to Gwen.

Gwen stared at her for a moment. "I don't remember your name," she said simply.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Winnie."

"Oh, yeah. Like the fat bear."

Winnie glared at her before turning to stare at Macey, who stared right back.

"You got something to say?" Gwen interrupted. "Because we have things to do."

Winnie hesitated before standing and backing away from the car. "Text me," she told Macey. Macey signed nothing, intently glaring at the floor of the vehicle. Gwen sighed noiselessly and shifted the car into drive.

"Was that Mato's kid?" she asked exiting the parking lot. Macey nodded. "What was that all about?"

Macey shook her head. _'Nothing,' _she mouthed.

They rode in silence until Gwen had come to a stop at a red light behind a Sudan. She took advantage of the stop and moved her eyes from the road to the sixteen-year-old, touching her arm to get her attention.

"I. . . need," she said slowly, apprehensively attempting to sign at the same time. ". . .to talk to you."

The bitterness seemed to leave Macey's face momentarily as her brow furrowed. She stared, a bit shell-shocked because Gwen adamantly refused to learn to sign when they were children and had never even tried when it was clear that ASL was Macey's chosen form of communication.

Seeing the look on her face, Gwen frowned. "Was that right?"

Macey nodded quickly, just as a car behind them laid on the horn. Gwen looked up only to realize that the light was green and the vehicle in front of her was long gone. She hit the gas but continued glancing frequently at Macey. "I need your help," she continued, unable to sign and steer at the same time but settling for at least making eye contact. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked as though she hadn't slept.

Macey jerked her head upwards in a universal "What's up" gesture since her sister's sign knowledge was minimal.

Gwen exhaled rather shakily. "I'm in a spot and I need some help."

Macey leaned forward so Gwen didn't have to take her eyes far from the road. _'No money_,' she mouthed firmly, the irritated look returning to her face.

"I don't need money. I need to _tell someone_, and I can't tell James 'cause he's a guy and I can't tell Mom 'cause she'll flip out. And Dad's obviously not an option. . ."

Macey huffed and dug her cell phone out of her pocket. Gwen looked at her in confusion as she typed before a robotic voice quickly read aloud, _"So by process of elimination, I'm your last choice? Gee, thanks."_

Gwen rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant and seriously, I'd rather you just mouth stuff. That's creepy."

_"You're starting to freak me out.' _

Gwen whipped the car quickly threw an intersection with a yellow light, and her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "You can't tell anyone."

_'Okay.' _That sign was easy, and she assumed Gwen understood because she took another shaky breath before continuing.

* * *

"This is giving me rather unpleasant flashbacks," Brooke said quietly, shifting through the stack of papers on the table in front of her. Across the room, Mrs. Knight sent her a sympathetic glance as she stirred a pot of sauce on the stove. Normally one for homecooked meals, she was a bit disappointed they hadn't ordered out tonight. All the families were having one final meal together before she and Katie and the boys returned to Los Angeles, and cooking for over a dozen people was quite a chore.

"Why don't you let that sit until tomorrow?" she suggested. "It's getting late."

"I'd rather get it over with," Brooke replied, moving a finished sheet to the side before grabbing one that had yet to be filled out. She sighed, a bit annoyed, as she glanced at the clock. "James, have you heard from them?"

James lowered the volume of the tv and glanced at his phone, even though the volume was on and he would have heard any notifications. "No, not yet."

"Did I not say one hour? How difficult is it for her to understand instructions. . . Try calling Gwen for me, would you?"

James obeyed, flipping his phone open again and shifting through his contacts to find his sister's number. As he did, Brooke's own cellphone buzzed, and quickly opened the message, annoyed. The color seemed to drain from her face.

"What is it?" Jen asked quietly.

Brooke didn't bother to type out a reply, instead rising from her chair and pushing it haphazardly back into its place as reached for the coat closet.

"Brooke?"

"James, get a jacket on. I think the girls were in an accident."

* * *

**Did I just give the Diamond family even more trouble? Yes, yes I did. I'm sorry I'm so angsty. **

**I hope you guys enjoyed! Please review!**

**God bless and much love,**

**-downtonabbey15 :) **


	15. If

**4/3/2020**

**And I'm back! Only took me a little over a month, but here's the next chapter! Thank you guys for being so patient! **

**Also, I just watched Season 10 Episode 13 of the Walking Dead, "What We Become," and bruh it's SO GOOD AHHHHH! Angela Kang is literally rocking it with this season holy crow. I am shook. You guys should totally watch. Just sayin'. **

**Warnings: This chapter references the use of a particularly bad drug.**

_winterschild11: Yes, he actually was! I think Gustavo is a decent guy, he just has trouble showing it, lol. _

* * *

She became gradually aware that someone was attempting to _stab her _in the crook of her arm, and despite her weakness she moved to yank the limb away quickly. A hand held it firmly in place.

"Hang on a sec, honey," a female voice soothed. "Stay still for me."

The stabbing pain came once more, and something sticky held what was presumably a needle in place. Macey fought to peel her eyes open, wincing as the light blinded her. She immediately realized that the majority of her face _burned _as if she were on fire. Her left eyelid stung particularly sharply, and she moved to lift a hand to it. The woman, who was still quite blurry as Macey realized she had no idea where her glasses were, grabbed her hand and set it back by her side. "Not yet, sweetie. Don't touch it."

Her vision cleared well enough that the blurriness dissipated, and she could make out what was going on around her. She was lying on something solid and soft but was obviously on the ground. She could hear people nearby speaking frantically, but her head throbbed when she attempted to turn it, and the lady kept telling her not to move. She could smell smoke and some other horrible substance she wasn't sure of, and suddenly her heart plunged to her stomach.

_The car. She had been in the car with Gwen, and they were talking about. . . where was Gwen? _

The nice EMT lady seemed to pick up on Macey's sudden mood change because she leaned forward to smile at her but kept working by Macey's side. "Can you tell me your name?"

It was a rarity for her to be in a situation like this. Every teacher at school knew about her, as well as every student. She was never called upon to answer questions or give her name. She hardly ever went out, either, and never by herself. She'd tagged along with James until he'd gotten older, and now was always accompanied by her parents or a few close friends, all of whom simply spoke for her. She ordered the same thing at every restaurant and fast food establishment; she used self-checkouts at stores. It was essentially foolproof. But in a situation where there was no one but her to answer, she was stuck.

Macey pointed to her mouth and shook her head, and the woman frowned. "Oh, are you deaf?" she asked quickly, then turned before Macey could shake her head "no" and called to a person out of sight, "Alec, do you know Sign Language?" The response must have been negative, because she turned back to Macey, speaking unnecessarily loudly and pointing to herself as she over-enunciated. "Can you understand me?"

Macey nodded, trying to squelch her irritation by reminding herself that this was a pretty normal reaction. There was no way for the woman to know her situation anyway, so she really didn't have a right to be angry.

"Oh, you can?"

She nodded again, mouthing, _'Where's my sister?' _

The woman clearly didn't understand her and seemed unsure of how to continue. "Sweetie, you were in an accident, but-"

_'I know,' _Macey mouthed exaggeratedly, hoping the woman would get it. '_Where is my sister?'_

The poor EMT looked terribly flustered, opening her mouth as if to speak but then shutting it again since she had no idea what to say. Macey quickly made the sign "to write" since it was pretty universal and could be easily understood. She usually carried a notepad, but she could feel nothing in her pockets and her backpack was out of sight. If the lady could just give her a pen and a piece of paper, there would be no issue. But again, the woman stared at her, unsure.

A shadow suddenly loomed over them, and Officer Garcia's face peered into her own. "Macey," he said quickly. He looked quite shaken, and it did nothing to help her nerves. "It's okay." He glanced at the EMT. "I know her family. Her name's Macey."

"Is she-"

"She's not deaf, she's mute," he responded, already knowing what she was going to ask. His eyes traveled back down to Macey as she signed "to write" once again. "Macey, it's okay," he said quickly. "You were in an accident, but-"

Her adrenaline surged with rising frustration, and suddenly she was halfway off the stretcher, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down so she could mouth something at the same time as she signed with her left hand (her non-dominant one, but her right was currently incapacitated with the IV).

Garcia shook his head. "Macey, slow down, sweetie. I can't understand you."

She pushed down her growing irritation and figured his lack of knowledge paired with her likely messy signing was the cause. She slowed down and signed, _'Where's Gwen?' _

Officer Garcia was fluent in both English and Spanish, and he was currently enrolled in an evening French class at the local community college. He felt it was vital for him to be able to communicate with as many people as possible. He'd even supposedly downloaded an ASL app on his iPad, although he clearly didn't have much time for it because it took him several moments to realize that Macey was signing "where." But he understood her point almost immediately. "Gwen?" Macey nearly gave herself whiplash nodding. His face remained stoic, but she could see a change in his eyes. "They're taking care of her over there," he said in a slightly uneven tone. "Just worry about you right now, okay?"

Macey shook her head frantically, mouthing and signing, _'What's wrong with her?' _

Mr. Garcia adopted a similar expression to that of the EMT, and his brow furrowed. "Macey, just relax, okay? They've got Gwen covered, so you just. . ." He trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say. "I'm gonna call your mom in a sec; everything's gonna be fine."

His tone did nothing to reassure her.

* * *

He didn't think he'd ever seen his mother so frantic.

Brooke Diamond was cool as a cucumber, almost always composed and ready with a comeback no matter what the situation. It was a skill James wished he'd inherited. Now, though, his mother was flying ahead of him through the entrance of the emergency room, brushing past others waiting in line and rushing up to a front desk reserved for families of incoming trauma patients.

"My daughters," Brooke said in a rush to the woman behind the desk. "They were brought in. . . I don't know, maybe half an hour ago?"

"Last name?" the woman asked.

"Diamond. Both of them."

The woman quickly clacked away on her keyboard, scanning her screen as it loaded gradually. She met Brooke's eyes again. "I'm afraid I don't have a record of them yet, but I can put your name in, so the doctors will come speak to you if you want."

James' mother nodded. "Yes, please."

She began to rattle off her information to the woman, and James took a nervous breath as he looked around. The waiting room wasn't too full; a few people were scattered here and there, aside from the small line waiting to check themselves in at the other counter. James sighed in relief; it was unlikely he would be mobbed by any fans in an emergency room anyway, but . . . _still._

His mother must have finished at the desk, because she crossed in front of him and head into the nearest empty cubicle, just a few yards away from check-in. She tossed her purse onto a couch and dropped into the seat heavily. James took the place directly adjacent to her, picking nervously at his nails. He winced as he tore at a piece of skin on his thumb. "Are you gonna call Dad?" he asked quietly.

A pause. "When I feel like it," came his mother's short reply. She didn't bother to meet his gaze.

James shifted nervously in his chair. "I can call him if-"

"No."

"Mom. . ."

"Stay out of my marriage, James."

James' stomach did a rather painful flip, and he clenched his jaw. _Stay out of their marriage? _How could any of them, when Brooke and Andrew shouted as loudly as possible through the house! "If you wanted that, maybe you should've kept your voices down," James mumbled under his breath, hunkering down in his seat and turning away from her.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"What did you-"

"I didn't say anything!" James snapped.

"You raise your voice in public like that again, and-"

"Hey, man!" Kendall suddenly burst in, with miraculous timing as usual. He completely ignored Mrs. Diamond as he hurried into the cubicle and made for James' side. "Are you okay? You weren't in the car, were you?" He seemed to be scanning James for injuries, and the thought would've made him chuckle if he wasn't so worried.

"No, I wasn't. I'm fine, Ken."

"My mom told me," Kendall explained, gesturing to the parking lot where, James assumed, Mrs. Knight was probably struggling to find a parking spot. "Carlos went to get Logan. He's at the library, I think."

"You guys don't all have to come," James protested. He was promptly shut up.

"Uh, your family's our family too," he reasoned, still not even making eye contact with Brooke. He tugged at James' jacket sleeve as he pulled him to his feet. "I feel like a coffee, you?" He jerked his head towards the other end of the hallway, and James got the message.

He nodded quickly. "Yeah."

His mother looked as though she was about to protest, but Kendall was dragging James away before Brooke had a chance to speak. They headed down the hall to a small alcove that housed several vending machines, as well as a nice-looking coffee maker. James took residence in the corner, leaning against a snack machine as Kendall deposited several quarters into the coffee maker. The machine began to whir softly, and James crossed his arms over his chest, clearing his throat.

"Thank you. . . for breaking that up back there."

Kendall was silent for a moment, eyes fixated on the machine as it worked even though he knew the pattern by heart. They'd spent many a late night in this little snack oasis, courtesy of hockey injuries. "The only reason I haven't told her exactly what I think of her is because I don't want to tick you off." He turned to James, a stern but compassionate look in his eyes. "You've gotta stand up to her, James."

The taller boy sighed, moving his eyes to the floor, the walls. Anywhere they wouldn't meet Kendall's. "She's my mom."

"I get that," Kendall reasoned. "But you can't let her talk to you that way. You're a grown man, James! She needs to start treating you like it."

"And what am I supposed to say?" James countered. "This isn't the same as telling her no. That was about my happiness. This is about _hers._ She isn't happy unless everyone does exactly what she says."

"So _stop_," Kendall pleaded. "I listen to my mom, but I'm not afraid to disagree with her."

"Yeah, 'cause your mom's a reasonable human being. Have you _met _mine?"

Kendall sighed heavily, grabbing the now finished cup of coffee from the machine and carefully handing it to James. "Do you want me to talk to her?"

James nearly dropped the hot beverage. "No! Kendall, _please _don't. It'll make everything so much worse."

"How much worse can it get? We've been here for two weeks, and you like you're going to keel over. She does nothing but rag on you, Jamie, and it's driving me up a wall."

"How do you think I feel?" James muttered, stirring his drink aimlessly as Kendall paid the machine for a second coffee. The blond remained silent, waiting to speak until the machine had started up again.

"Have you heard anything?" he asked quietly. James shook his head. "I'm sure they're-"

"Oh, now you show up!" came Brooke's snapping remark from out in the waiting room.

James groaned and began to move as Kendall peered through the doorway. "It's Carlos' dad," he informed him, turning back to the coffee machine and willing it to hurry. "I'll be right there."

James gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, hurrying out of the cubbyhole to the cubicle where his mother, Mrs. Knight, and Mr. Garcia were now standing.

"And where have you been?" his mother asked. "You called me on the road; I thought you'd be here! And why on earth did I get a text about it from _Macey _before I got a call from you?!"

James didn't think he'd ever seen Carlos' father look so stressed. "I got called back to the station," he explained, breathless and seeming terribly flustered. He shot a glance in James' direction. "I need to talk to you," he said quietly. "Alone. When you can."

"About?"

Mr. Garcia looked uneasy. "Everything."

Well, _that _did absolutely nothing for James' nerves, especially coupled with the fact that Mr. Garcia, whose expression was normally unreadable, looked considerably uneasy, only worried James even more. Mrs. Knight seemed to take control of the situation at that point, suggesting they all sit while she and Kendall went to find something for them to eat, which Brooke adamantly refused. She would eat when she received news of the girls, she said.

Kendall eventually rejoined them, and the boys sat off to the side, avoiding the small huddle the adults seemed to form on the other side of the cubicle. They spoke in hushed, worried whispers, and the magazine that Kendall handed him did nothing to prevent James from straining to hear their conversation. He risked a glance at Kendall, and he caught the blonde staring down the adults as they spoke. He was clearly just as attentive to the discussion as James was, despite the magazine in his hand.

Andrew was refusing to speak with law enforcement at all and had requested a lawyer. That alone made James' stomach twist in a way that left him struggling to breathe evenly. Innocent people didn't ask for lawyers. Wasn't that what every police show on tv said? Why would his father need a lawyer if he hadn't done anything wrong?

Was that why Mr. Garcia looked so nervous? Maybe it really did look bad for his father to ask for a lawyer, but. . . James probably would too, if he was basically being framed for murder.

James' thoughts began to scatter, as they often did when he panicked. Why. . . why would his father ask for a lawyer? If he hadn't done anything wrong, _why _would he need a lawyer? Surely going to trial without requesting a defense team would show he was confident of his innocence.

_If _he was innocent.

He shook the thought from his head almost immediately, appalled with himself and shocked that he'd had the nerve to think such a thing. _Of course _his father was innocent. He'd _raised them_, for pity's sake. Murderers didn't buy their kids ridiculous animals as presents and work with their other kids almost every day the way Andrew did. They didn't send their sons a gift basket filled with nerf guns and hairspray and junk food and gift cards to celebrate their first live concert in a new band. Murderers didn't do stuff like that.

Did they?

James began nervously picking at his nails again, fighting to quell the growing unease inside of him. He struggled to catch the adults' conversation.

"Would you like me to call Andrew?"

"No."

"Have you?"

"I'll call him when I _want to_, Carlos."

James resisted the urge to scoff. He could feel his mother's eyes boring into his skull, but he refused to look at her, instead keeping his eyes trained on the window. He was sure something quite unforgivable would come out of his mouth if he did, and that was the last thing they needed.

If his parents could have gotten ahold of themselves, he was fairly sure they could have saved their marriage. Even if they hadn't, there would have been significantly less animosity between them. If only his dad hadn't gone and gotten Nikki pregnant. . . If only his mother hadn't felt the need to criticize every breath he took. . . Even if the divorce had still occurred, James was sure it could have been better. Gwen wouldn't have turned to drugs and fallen for them so hard. Macey wouldn't have folded in on herself and might have kept talking. Maybe James would've faired a bit better and wouldn't feel as though he were falling apart at the seams.

But that wasn't the way everything went. The divorce had been brutal and ugly and caused so much hate to enter James' heart, he was certain it must be rock solid by now. He squeezed and pressed and compacted nearly all the love he'd felt for his family into a pitiful little ball that now sat in a tense heap in the pit of his chest. Any love he was offered after the divorce had been rejected; he was terrified of disappointment, terrified of getting his hopes up as he had when he was a child.

Brooke and Andrew did nothing to help. James knew plenty of kids at school with divorced parents; only their parents _tried _to make things work. Even if they didn't love each other anymore, they cooperated for their children's' sake and worked together to ensure their kids' lives faced as little disruption as possible. Brooke and Andrew were the opposite. They refused to look at each other if they didn't have to, and neither had any qualms about slandering the other in the presence of their children. It was a horribly toxic environment to grow up in, and James supposed it had taken its toll on all of them.

But it was done now.

They hadn't been waiting that long, maybe half an hour at a maximum before soft footsteps sounded suddenly behind James. Macey appeared, face bruised with a bandage across what looked to be a nearly broken nose and glaring indignantly at their mother. _'Feel free to check your messages!' _she snapped, slipping her backpack off of her shoulders and chucking it into an empty seat beside her brother.

Their mother was off her seat in a flash, grabbing Macey by the shoulders and peering at her as though expecting to find some gaping wound. "Are you all right?! Where's your sister? What happened?! Why didn't-"

Macey shrugged out of the uncomfortable grip, confused. _'I'm fine,' _she signed. _'And Gwen's back there. If you'd have read your messages, you'd know!' _

"You didn't send me anything besides the first one!"

_'Oh my gosh, yes I did!' _

"Okay, okay," Mrs. Knight said quickly, rising and taking a step forward as if to come between them. She only understood 50% of the conversation but could clearly see a fight was brewing. "Brooke-"

"You," Brooke countered, grabbing her purse and digging through it as she addressed her daughter. "Sent me one message that said, "We're going to the ER, we got in an accident."

_'I didn't say we got in an accident!' _

"Really?" Brooke scrolled through her phone, pulling up her messages. "'Gwen's hurt, we're going to the ER,'" she read before sending an expectant look to Macey.

_'. . .Where do you see the word accident in that?' _

"You said she was hurt. What else would that imply? And you _did _get in an accident! What happened?!"

_'I didn't want you to freak out, and she's a terrible driver! That's what happened! She ran a red light, and some guy hit the back of the car and we spun out! I texted you everything while I was back there!' _

"Oh, for the love of. . ." Brooke shuffled through the messages before huffing. "Well, my sound was off, Macey, how on earth was I to know that you sent me anything?"

_'You're right, I should've used my telekinesis to turn your ringer on.' _

"You could've called." An uncomfortable silence fell, and James resisted the urge to send his mother a look.

_'Yeah, well. . .' _

Brooke sighed, taking Macey's face in her hands and looking it over. "Is anything broken?"

_'Just my glasses.'_

"Where's your sister?"

Macey shrugged. _'I don't know. They won't let me see her." _

Brooke sighed, moving back to her seat. Macey moved her bag and took the chair beside James, who tried to let himself relax a little. Macey didn't look too bad, although he was sure that nose would look ten times worse in the morning (she was also clad in a scrub shirt from the hospital staff, and he tried not to wonder how bloodied her uniform shirt must have been to warrant the change). If she was fine, then Gwen would be fine too, right? The accident couldn't have been that bad then. So. . . what was taking so long?

The nurse eventually came out and gave Macey's discharge paperwork to Brooke for her to fill out, and it was an additional forty-five minutes after that until an elderly doctor came hurrying up to them. He stopped in front of Brooke, asking, "Brooke Diamond?"

Brooke was on her feet instantly with a short, "Yes," wringing her hands as she spoke.

The man gave a slight nod. "I'm Dr. Robert Sully, and I've been taking care of your daughter Gwen." He glanced at the group and then back to Brooke. "Would you like to come speak with me in private?"

Brooke stiffened, immediately more concerned. "You can say what you need to say right here."

The man hesitated. "I'm only thinking of confidentiality, ma'am."

"And these are family and friends. You can say whatever you need to in front of them."

The man seemed uneasy but nodded, referring to his clipboard. "Your daughter came in with severe bleeding from the esophageal area. There was very little head trauma from the accident, so naturally, we were concerned. We ran several imaging tests-"

"I-It's not a tumor or anything, is it?" Brooke asked fearfully.

"No no," Dr. Sully said quickly, shaking his head. "No cancer. We concluded that it _could've_ mostly been due to the blunt force trauma in the accident. However, her blood counts seemed very odd. We ran a few tests, and. . ." He looked uneasily at the group again, then turned back to Brooke and lowered his voice. "Did you know she was using methamphetamine?"

* * *

**Yikes. I really hadn't intended to delve this far into addiction but it sort of just happened, so. . . If you or anyone you know is struggling with any kind of substance abuse, please call the hotline specific to your area. If any of you need to talk about anything, please reach out. I'm always here if any of you need anything. **

**God bless and much love and prayers,**

**-downtonabbey15**


	16. Relapse

**4/14/2020**

**It's late and I'm really tired so I don't have anything interesting to say, lol. **

**WARNING: This chapter discusses drug use. **

* * *

_"You don't get over an addiction by stopping using. You recover by creating a new life where it is easier not to use. If you don't create a new life, then all the factors that brought you to your addiction will catch up with you again." - Pinterest User _

_"Are you excited?" _

_ Macey glanced up from her workbook, brow furrowing. "F-for what?" _

_ "Uh, the baby," James chuckled, gesturing around them for emphasis. Why else would they be sitting at a very beige booth in a very beige hospital cafeteria surrounded by several empty beige cups of hot chocolate and other drinks? For fun? They'd been waiting for over five hours for their father to come down from the maternity ward to come and get them. _

_ Macey shrugged, returning to her homework without a word. James glanced down at his own work and bit his lip while mentally kicking himself. It had been almost three weeks since he'd last smoked anything. The shaking was only just stopping now, which he guessed was to be expected after using weed (and cocaine for a bit) as heavily as he had for almost a year. He wondered, briefly, just how much his sister seemed to have retreated in on herself in that time. She and Gwen usually did things together, but Gwen seemed to have gone off the deep end, and with James temporarily joining her there, Macey had been, he assumed, primarily on her own. From what James gathered, she didn't have many friends. She'd likely been sitting around all by herself while he and Gwen lived it up and got high in his bedroom. _

_ What a great brother he'd turned out to be. _

_ "You're gonna be a big sister," he continued, hoping she'd talk a bit more. He didn't like how silent she seemed. It was unnatural, even with her stutter. "That's fun." _

_ Macey's eyes barely left her math work. "He's n-not a real b-…a real brother, though. N-not like you." _

_ "No," James said slowly, a bit afraid he'd say the wrong thing. "But he'll still be a brother. He's still family." _

_ The ten-year-old shrugged again, and James sat forward a bit. "We can teach him stuff. And he'll like us more than Gwen." That got a light chuckle out of her, albeit at his older sister's expense. "We'll have fun when we go over there, you'll see." _

_ Macey didn't answer, and James sat back and reluctantly returned to his own work. They sat in silence for a few minutes, James occasionally checking his phone and Macey engrossed in her work. _

_ "Dad says I'm g-gonna live over with-with them." _

_ James' eyes darted up from his science worksheet. His sister was staring a bit eerily at a spot on the table in front of her instead of her homework, and her face was almost blank. _

_ It took him a moment to formulate the words. He couldn't possibly have heard her right. ". . .What?" Macey simply nodded, and his brow furrowed. "He told you that?" His parents certainly hadn't told **him **that. _

_ "T-told the lawyer g-guy th. . .that. I heard." _

_ James was silent for a moment. "I don't think Mom'll be okay with that. Maybe you heard wrong." _

_ Macey's eyes darkened, and she glared at him. "I k-kn-. . .I-. . ." She huffed, ripping a sheet of paper out of her notebook and scribbling something on it. She passed it to him. _

_ **I can hear fine. Just because my mouth's messed up doesn't mean my hearing is. **_

_James sighed, crumpling the paper in his hands. "That's not what I meant and you know it." He sent the crushed ball of paper across the table, skidding it over her homework. She brushed it away, intent on ignoring it._

It was eerie that they were in almost the same position now.

The homicide detective, James couldn't remember his name, was on his way. James and Macey had been herded into the now closed cafeteria, which was being used as an impromptu interview room since the hospital only had three conference rooms, all of which were being used at the moment. Brooke had refused to let them go to the police station. Gwen was in the ICU and would likely be there for some time, and their mother refused to budge. So, by default, they were staying too.

If the cafeteria hadn't been remodeled a few years prior, they would've likely been in the exact same booth, James mused, that they'd sat in the day Landon was born. It was disturbing. Now, they weren't waiting to celebrate a sibling. They were in the midst of mourning his death. James wasn't battling through withdrawal episodes as he had been the last time. Macey wasn't talking. And Gwen. . .

Gwen was in the ICU because she'd been using _meth_. How. . . how could it have gotten that far? They used marijuana when they started. Or at least, when James started. She eventually convinced him to use cocaine a few times, and he complied even though the drug made him violently ill. He quit a few weeks before Landon was born; Macey had dropped out of speech therapy and was really starting to act out towards their mother, and they had another younger sibling on the way now, he argued. Their dad had already moved out and would be remarried soon. They really should support their family instead of spending half the night getting high. Gwen not so politely disagreed, and James had quit their nocturnal drug sessions immediately.

He knew Gwen had kept it up; he could smell the weed on her when she came in from weekend parties, and he'd seen her pop a pill a few times, but. . . that was all. She'd never given any indication that she was using anything harder than cocaine or off-brand antidepressants. No needles (James absolutely would've confronted her if he found those) or anything like that. She never even looked high. Her makeup and clothing were impeccable, and her eyes were always clear. Other than her attitude (which, admittedly, wasn't as erratic as it was rude), there was no indication anything was wrong. It was likely why she'd been able to conceal it for nearly seven years. She never looked like a drug addict.

Until they'd walked into that hospital room.

He and Macey had been allowed inside briefly; it was the ICU and only two visitors were allowed at a time, but the nurses turned a blind eye for the quick visit. Their mother had been there for the better part of an hour, even though Gwen was heavily sedated for most of it. She was awake by the time they arrived, hair unkept and skin practically grey as she seemed to struggle not to vomit all over herself, and promptly told them to get out using less than polite language. Whether the anger was genuine or the product of withdrawal, James wasn't sure. She'd looked relatively coherent, and unkind words from her were the usual anyway, so. . .

He assumed the other boys had gone home; visiting hours were likely over seeing as it was nearly half past nine in the evening. And really, he didn't want them here anyway. He didn't want them bearing witness to his already unstable home life falling apart even further.

The silence was awkward, normal as it was. James truly had no idea what to say. _Well, good to know Gwen's a meth addict, huh? _He let his head fall back against the booth cushion with a sigh through his nose. Seriously, what was taking-

As if on cue, the doors of the cafeteria swung open and Mr. Garcia hurried in, followed by a large, older man in a suit with a briefcase in his left hand. He didn't look very friendly.

"Sorry guys," Mr. Garcia apologized, stopping in front of their table. "We had a bit of trouble at the front desk." He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "This is Detective Joe Wozniak, from Minneapolis."

Detective Wozniak gave them what was seemingly the friendliest smile he could muster. "Hey, sport," he said, reaching out to shake James' hand.

James hadn't been called sport since his growth spurt in the seventh grade, but he bit his tongue and shook the man's hand anyway. "James," he replied, then nodded to his sister. "That's Macey."

Wozniak shook Macey's hand as well before smoothing his tie and sliding into the seat across from them. He set his briefcase on the table. "I'm sorry to push in at a time like this," he began. James resisted the urge to tell him that if he really minded so much, he could've pushed the meeting off. Really, what was so urgent? Landon was dead. It wasn't as if they were trying to find a living child anymore, and they had the killer (or who they _thought_ was the killer) in custody, no matter how wrong James knew they were. What was so imperative?

Wozniak retrieved a stack of papers from his briefcase before grabbing a notepad and pencil. "You know," he said, looking at James. "You don't have to stay the whole time. You have an alibi and you weren't even in the state. You can go if you want."

James leaned back, bringing one foot up on the booth to rest his arm across his knee. "I mean, if you want to sit here for three hours so she can write everything on a whiteboard for you," he snapped, "be my guest. Otherwise you need me to interpret."

Mr. Garcia gave him a hard look, and James immediately winced. He didn't mean to be so crass. Although, really, he'd like nothing better than to leave the detective to painstakingly read Macey's written statements. Considering the man was trying to put their father in prison, James figured he deserved a few hours of uncomfortable boredom.

Wozniak immediately backed off, stammering as he spoke. "Well, that-that's a very good point," he said with a bit of a chuckle.

James didn't share in the humor, and Wozniak cleared his throat awkwardly, sifting through his papers. He was clearly _trying _to be friendly; James had to give him that. It was obvious the man wasn't used to dealing with kids.

Macey sent a light elbow into James' arm, signing, _'I already gave him all my statements.' _

"She said she already gave you her statements," James verbalized to Carlos' father.

_'In writing,'_ she added.

"In writing."

Mr. Garcia winced. "I know. But Detective Wozniak has to he-. . . he has to hear it from you too."

"It's procedure," Wozniak explained. "It won't take long, I promise." He flipped through his notebook to a blank page and glanced off of the papers in his hand. "So. Let's start with Friday morning, hmm? How did it start?"

_'I woke up sick, how do you think it started?' _

"And you went to school?"

_'Yeah.' _

"Your father didn't let you stay home?"

_'He was already gone when I woke up. He didn't even know until I texted him during lunch.' _

"Why did you text him?"

_'I asked him to pick us up. I didn't want to walk.' _

"And what did _he _say?"

_'No.' _

". . . So, he knew you were sick, and he let you walk home and watch your six-year-old brother? He didn't think you'd need help?"

_'He had a meeting; he couldn't leave early.' _

"Had a meeting with who?"

_'. . . I don't know. I can check. It would be marked down in the HR folder.' _

Wozniak made a note. "So you came home," he continued. "What time was that?"

Macey shrugged. _'I don't know. Three-ish? 3:15?' _

"And it was just you and Landon?"

_'. . .Yeah. . . It was just us.' _

"Where was your stepmother?"

Another shrug. _'Out. Sometimes she goes to the hairdresser on Fridays, but I'm not sure.' _

"So, you were alone. What did you do?"

_'Fixed Landon a sandwich. And I took cold medicine.' _

Wozniak scribbled something down, pausing his writing to glance at his notes. "And then?"

Macey shrugged. _'I fell asleep on the couch. I didn't wake up until Dad came home.' _

"And what time was that?"

_'I don't know.' _

"Did anything seem out of place? Was he upset?"

Macey hesitated uneasily. _'He was mad, but he was mad at me, that's all.' _

"And why was he mad?"

_'. . . He and Nikki don't have covers over the knobs on the stove.' _She glanced at James, as if wondering if that was a bad thing to say. _'When Dad got home, Landon was switching the pilots on and off, and. . . he got mad.' _

Wozniak scribbled something down, and Macey looked uneasy. _'He was right,' _she added. _'I should've been watching him better.' _

The detective didn't reply, continuing to write before looking up and continuing. "And then?"

_'He left. He took Landon. . . to be safe. So I wouldn't have to worry about watching him.' _

"And he didn't appear. . . off? Did he look like he was in a hurry?"

She shook her head.

"What time did they leave?"

_'I don't know. I can't remember.'_

Wozniak sighed, shifting in his seat. "Macey, you were the last person to see them both. Kevin Beck didn't even see the _car_, and it was in _his _lot." He bit his lip, eyeing both children uneasily. "Right now, your dad is being held based on very circumstantial evidence. People have been convicted on much less."

"He didn't do it," James said quietly.

The older man exhaled slowly. "As a prosecutor, I can't say anything. But as a resident of this community. . . I don't think he did either. But the prosecution? _My _team? They think he did. They're going to try to prove that he left the house, drove north and off-road, ditched his SUV, got a hold of another vehicle, took it out, killed your brother, went to that 7/11, and staged the entire thing as a carjacking turned abduction. Now, he was at that convenience store by quarter after five in the afternoon. If I can prove he left the house not long before that, then there's no possible way he could have driven as far out as he did, committed the crime, and somehow ditched a second vehicle before getting to that 7/11 by 5:15." He eyed Macey. "It's imperative that you try to remember what time he left."

Macey hesitated a moment, then shook her head defeatedly. _'I really don't remember.' _

Wozniak sighed. He looked unhappy, but not in an angry way, for which James was thankful. He was too tired for an argument.

The detective nodded, seeming to accept the answers he'd received as he began to put his notes away. Shutting his briefcase with a click, he moved to stand, and Mr. Garcia slid out of the booth to give him room. "Thanks, kids," he said quietly. He turned to James. "I shouldn't need more than your character witness from the PD, but I might give you a call at some point." He gestured to Mr. Garcia. "He'll give you a heads up."

James nodded. It was as much of an answer as he was willing to give at the moment.

Things were looking absolutely _terrible_ for his father, and they all knew it.

* * *

He was intercepted by his mother the minute he, Macey, and Mr. Garcia exited the hallway that led back to the main waiting room.

"How did it go?" she asked immediately.

James shrugged, unsure of what to say. "Fine," was what he eventually settled on, though he was a horrible liar and knew that his mother saw right through it.

Irritated, she pursed her lips and handed him a plastic hospital-issued bag that was relatively light. "That's Gwen's stuff," she told him. "Do me a favor and sort it out in her room, would you? I don't want it sitting here for days."

James nodded, again unwilling to provide much of an answer. He didn't need to, however, as Brooke continued speaking.

"I'm spending the night here. Officer Garcia is going to take you home, and Carlos is staying with you. No parties, understand?"

_Parties? _The last thing on his mind was throwing a _party_. At this rate, he would be glad of Carlos' company, if only to ensure he had a companion when he inevitably eluded sleep that night.

Seemingly satisfied, his mother pushed the bag into his arms and began her typical litany of rules. Doors locked, lights off at a reasonable hour, no fiddling with the thermostat, etc. She herded the group into an elevator to the ground floor, where they picked up Carlos (who, in fact, hadn't gone home with the others but was sprawled unceremoniously on a rather uncomfortable grey chair) and climbed into Mr. Garcia's police cruiser. The ride to their neighborhood was silent, save for the occasional buzz of Carlos' phone (no doubt from Kendall and Logan). They pulled up to the Diamonds' house in less than fifteen minutes, and Carlos turned back to face his friend, grinning since he had to look through the small perforated guard that separated the front seat from the backseat.

"You want pizza?" he asked. "I can order one. I have to go to my place and get my stuff real quick, but I'll be back before it gets here."

James shrugged, offering a small shake of his head. "That's fine," he said quietly. Despite his mood, Carlos still smiled at him as James climbed out of the car. Mr. Garcia drove off as James let himself in, flipping on the foyer light and bathing the hallway in an obnoxiously warm glow. The house was silent, save for the soft clop of hooves as Clifford scampered up to them. James was fairly certain no one had fed him before they hurriedly left the house that afternoon. The poor thing was probably starving.

Macey gave a huff of annoyance, heading towards the kitchen as the goat nipped at her heels. James remained silent, depositing his belongings by the door and gathering Gwen's in a heap in his arms. He started quietly up the stairs, moving towards her bedroom and pushing open the door with his foot. He flipped the light switch on with his elbow and tossed the items on the bed before beginning to open the bag.

Gwen's wallet. Her watch. A bag of what appeared to be very stale Cheetos. Her jacket. James moved to hang the jacket on the back of the door, inspecting it to ensure there wasn't any blood or anything that indicated the jacket should be washed rather than just hung up. He flipped it over in his hands, and something in the pocket caught his eye. He reached inside, clasping his fingers around the object and pulling it into the light.

It was a joint.

He was suddenly twelve years old again, standing just as he was now, joint held uncertainly in his hand as he turned it over, eyeing it warily.

_"Are you sure?" he asked. "This is bad, isn't it?" _

He couldn't. It had been ages since he'd last done it, and he was a professional singer now. He couldn't risk something like that.

_ Gwen shrugged, folding her legs and leaning forward as she removed her own from her mouth and blew out a breath of smoke. The stench was overwhelming, and James resisted the urge to cough. "You said you wanted to relax, right?" _

Carlos wouldn't be long. But he could smoke quickly, too. Drench himself in his Cuda spray. Carlos would never know. The room wouldn't smell, and no one would come in Gwen's room anyway. It could work.

_ He nodded uneasily. It would be nice to sleep without being awoken by unpleasant dreams or their parents' loud arguments. _

He had time.

_Gwen leaned back against the headboard, taking a long drag. "Trust me. This gets my mind off **everything**." _

James fished around Gwen's nightstand drawer almost frantically, finding a lighter immediately. He paused, eyeing the joint with caution. He shouldn't do this.

_He shouldn't do this. He couldn't. _

He couldn't.

_ What would his mother say? _

What would his friends say?

_ She didn't have to know. _

They couldn't know.

_If he could just relax. . . _

He was lighting the joint and inhaling a long drag of smoke before he even realized what he was doing.

* * *

**Sigh. Not a good decision Jamie. Not a good decision _at all_. Anyway, I hope you guys liked this. Stay safe. **

**God bless and much love, **

**-downtonabbey15**


	17. DNA

**AN: Wow, it's been ages. Sorry guys. I've had a migraine the past few days so you can blame the random end to this chapter on that. I have really terrible writer's block right now and I'm just not in a good place, so I'm sorry for the lack of updates. **

**Here's a Carlos-centered chapter. It's kind of a filler but it's also very important. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Concealing the high was actually much easier than James expected. He ditched the joint halfway through, spraying the room heavily with Febreze before retreating to his own bedroom and more or less soaking his upper body in Cuda spray. It had been years since he'd last smoked, but the familiar feeling came back to him quickly. It wasn't like his first time; he wasn't really out of his head, but the calmness and tranquility that suddenly came over him were considerably stronger than he remembered. He hoped, in the back of his mind before temptation took over and he brushed it off, that the marijuana wasn't laced with something else.

Carlos arrived shortly afterward, walking up the driveway just as the delivery man pulled along the sidewalk. He paid him despite James' protests, and happily carried the pizzas (two, really? There were only_ three_ of them. . . where would they put it all?) into the house. James, surprisingly, ate without difficulty.

It was an odd sensation, he mused when he retired to his bedroom roughly an hour later. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been able to eat so freely, unconcerned about the repercussions junk food could have on his body. It was. . . it was so _nice_. It was so incredibly nice to be able to eat without worrying about disposing of the food afterward. And it was even nicer to see Carlos genuinely relax throughout the meal, clearly seeing James' lack of discomfort.

But the peace the drugs brought seemed to wear off the minute he rested his head on the pillow that night.

His father refused to speak with law enforcement now. He was asking for a lawyer. And he was, in all likelihood, going to prison for a very long time.

His family was falling apart, and the only thing James felt he could do was sit by and watch.

Across the hall, Carlos was finding sleep equally as elusive. It didn't help that the room was pitch black, and terrifying thoughts of Landon Diamond's ghost creeping up on him refused to leave him alone (ghost kids were the _worst_. . . his fears were completely justified, thank you very much). Wasn't that what happened in the movies? Didn't the ghosts of those who'd died unjustly come back to seek vengeance on those who'd wronged them? It seemed completely plausible that Landon would hang around until they'd caught whoever killed him (because Carlos was 100% certain that Andrew Diamond was innocent, and while the police focused on him, there was a psychopath on the loose).

In any case, he was certain James wouldn't appreciate his. . . _concern_ . . .over the spirit of his brother, so Carlos resolved to bury his head beneath the blankets, praying that he wouldn't risk a glance at the outside world only to find Landon's translucent face peering at him.

Oh, why did he think that?!

Carlos groaned, pressing his face into the pillow with thump before eventually coming up for air.

This entire situation was beyond messed up.

What happened to Landon was terrible, there was no doubt about that. And of course the police wanted to put whoever was responsible behind bars as quickly as possible (heck, Carlos wanted it too!). But. . . James' dad was a really great guy. Aside from the whole cheating thing. Even after he and his wife divorced, Andrew made a huge effort to be there for all of James' games, and plays, and musicals, and choir concerts, and so on. Did psychopaths really go to so much trouble to mend their relationships with their family? Carlos wasn't so sure.

He'd been like an uncle to Carlos as the four grew up. He was cool, always willing to keep up with the boys as a partner in crime one minute, and a chaperone the next. Carlos only trusted his own parents more.

He sat up, thoughts of ghosts fleeing as his mind began to whirl.

Yes, his DNA was on the hammer (but it was his hammer).

Yes, there hadn't been any other DNA or fingerprints found in the car (but the actual culprits could have been wearing gloves).

Yes, the car didn't show any damage, as though Landon had fought off his attackers (although really, how difficult would it be for presumably grown adults to restrain a six year old?).

Wait. . .

Obviously, it wouldn't be hard for them to get Landon out of the car. He wasn't big, so it's not like the car would be dramatically marked. But. . .

Landon was violent. Not psychopathically so. He was a kid, and kids could be violent. Carlos had once seen smack James in the face and bite him when he couldn't have his way. It was plausible that, if Landon didn't like where they were going or didn't understand what was going on, he would've taken a good swing at Andrew (or whoever had a hold of him).

So, wouldn't it be logical for him to have someone else's DNA on him? A print or blood or hair or something?

Andrew was completely unharmed; Carlos had seen no evidence of bruising or cuts on his face or neck.

But. . . if the police by chance found any other DNA on Landon's body, there was their killer right there!

Carlos tossed the covers aside, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and slipping his shoes on as he stood. He moved for the door, grabbing his jacket and slipping it around his shoulders over his sweatshirt. He stepped out into the hallway quietly, glancing uncertainly at James' door.

James was a fairly light sleeper, and the use of the front or back doors was sure to wake him (Carlos didn't have a key anyway, and he didn't relish the thought of leaving a door unlocked, considering their current situation). He thought for a moment, then hurried back inside the guest room, shutting the door behind him.

This was probably his worst idea to date.

Moving across the room, he slid open the window, peering down towards the awning (at least) 12-15 feet below him. That was. . .a bit higher than he remembered.

Granted, the last time he'd done this, he'd been standing on Logan's shoulders.

And _Logan_ had been using _Kendall_ as a footstool.

Thinking fast, he yanked the sheets from the bed, tying them together at the ends and tying the other end to the bed post as tight as possible. He slung the loose sections over his shoulder, moving to the window and throwing one foot over the edge so he was straddling the sill.

For all intents and purposes, if he _did_ die, he supposed it would be awesome to go out swinging from a window like Spider-Man.

He turned carefully, easing himself out of the window and pulling the sheets taught as he pressed his feet against the side of the house to brace himself. Well this was _wayyyyyyy_ easier when they were kids.

Arms straining, he began to slowly slide down towards the awning. It was close enough to the ground that he could jump safely (he knew from past experience), but the distance from the window to the awning was more treacherous. One wrong move and-

His hands slipped and he plummeted towards the awning, landing on the shingles with a harsh thump. He groaned, rolling onto his side and immediately glancing at the house. No one else seemed disturbed by his tumble, thank God. And the shingles weren't-

One slid off the roof, hitting its fellow tiles with sharp clacks.

-that messed up. He grimaced. If James' mom asked, he knew nothing.

Standing carefully, he made his way to the end, easily swinging down onto the handrail below, before dropping nimbly to the grass.

Seriously, he needed to become a secret agent or something.

* * *

The police station was quiet. Carlos (sneakily) hurried to the back door since there was no way he could get past the front desk undetected. He moved to the keypad, punching in his father's access code and slipping through the door once the locking mechanism disengaged.

Yeah, he probably shouldn't know the things he knew.

The station's back hallway was fairly quiet. While it was certainly well-past midnight, Carlos could hear the low murmur of several officers coming from a room far down the hall. To the right stood a gated entrance that led to the holding cells. He quickly looked away, unwilling to think of Mr. Diamond there.

Hurrying past the gate, he crept quietly by a conference room whose door stood ajar. Light spilled out into the hallway, and Carlos easily stepped around it, hoping to stay out of sight. He caught wind of his father's voice as he passed, and he breathed a sigh of relief. If his father was distracted, it would make _his_ job that much easier.

His father's office, just as Carlos guessed, stood unlocked. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him, moving to turn on the desk light. The lamp gave off a dim glow, barely visible from under the door. _Perfect._

Carlos Garcia Sr. was meticulous in his work; his coworkers often teased him about it, but those close to him knew it had proved itself to be vital in his work. Organization could never be too important when people's lives were involved, he always told his son.

Though Carlos was notably unlike his father in the field of order, he was thoroughly glad for his father's work now.

A large series of racks behind Mr. Garcia's desk held his case files; thick, labeled binders detailing almost every case he'd ever worked, even those which had been solved. He always kept the open cases to the far left, alphabetized and sorted by crime. Felonies on the top two rows, misdemeanors on the bottom. Carlos scanned through the binders closest to the top of the rack, trying to ignore the ones that were unrelated to the Diamonds (since it wasn't his business. . . the other families affected by terrible crimes deserved privacy just as much as James' did).

_**Diamond — October 7, 2011 - Present**_

_Bingo_.

Carlos grabbed the binder, setting it gingerly on the desk and bending the lamp's neck so the light focused. This was. . .very, _very_ illegal, but. . .he really didn't care. He'd probably end up working with his dad in the future anyway. It wasn't like he wouldn't see these files at some point. Confident after reassuring himself that he wasn't really doing anything wrong, he flipped the binder open to the first page.

And nearly vomited on the spot.

There was. . .a very _graphic_ picture of what he presumed was Landon Diamond's remains, right in the middle of the woods where he'd been found.

Carlos pressed a hand to his mouth, willing the lump in his throat to go back down. Heaving all over his father's desk would not be a good way to stay undercover.

How horrible could a person be, to murder a child in such a way? Carlos had known Landon since he was born. He'd babysat him with James on a number of occasions.

_"Emotion is a tricky thing,"_ his father had once told him, referring to his work._ "You have to be attached and unattached, all at the same time. You have to care, otherwise, how can you fight to solve a case? There would be nothing motivating you. But you can't let that case rule your life. You can't get too emotional in thinking about how a life was taken away, or how a future was stolen. Once you start thinking, you don't stop. Then that passion clouds your judgement."_

How could his father work this case, when Landon was like a nephew and Andrew was one of his closest friends?

Carlos swallowed hard. His father. . .was a remarkable man, that was for sure. Carlos wished he had half his strength.

Biting his lip, he removed his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick picture of the photograph. He did the same with the following images, each depicting surrounding areas of the crime scene and various clues the police had deemed important.

He flipped to the next page, and actual page detailing Landon's las sighting at the house through the "car-jacking" (Carlos still didn't know what to think about that situation), to the discovery of his body and Andrew's arrest. The subsequent pages explained the same events in greater detail, with eyewitness testimonies, and the results of a polygraph test administered to Andrew roughly twelve hours before.

He'd failed miserably.

_"That passion clouds your judgement,"_ his father's voice echoed in his head.

The teen took a deep breath, snapping pictures of the pages and continuing to flip through the small binder. Don't get too invested, he told himself.

He eventually got to a connected set of pages detailing Landon's autopsy, and he paused. The cause of death was fairly obvious, but was stated anyway for procedure. The coroner went into further detail of the condition of the body. It had clearly been there for days, he said, making it likely that Landon was killed within a few hours of the abduction. Blunt force trauma was clear, but so were signs of restraint around the wrists and ankles.

Carlos didn't remember his father saying anything about that. And why restrain a child already in a car seat?

There was evidence of malnutrition (odd since Landon ate like a horse, and how was that possible if he'd died only a few hours after he was taken).

There was not, however, any mention of DNA taken from the body. Nothing indicating even a single print. How could this-

"Make sure I've got that file by the morning," Carlos' father said from outside the door. Carlos jumped, quickly shoving his cell phone back into his pocket just as his father opened the door, freezing as he caught sight of his son.

A coworker called something unintelligible to him, and the older man answered with an, "Absolutely," in a fairly even tone, as though he hadn't just caught his oldest child trespassing and breaching his privacy. He shut the door behind him. Carlos gulped.

"What on earth are you doing?!" his father scolded, lowering his voice as he hurried to the desk. He yanked the binder away from in front of his son, closing it. "Are you crazy?!"

"I was just-"

"You were committing a crime! That's off-limits to the public, Carlos. And for good reason. It's an open investigation. We're prohibited by law from disclosing any information until the case is closed."

"I know that!" Carlos cried. " I just. . .I want to help, okay?"

"You can help by going back to Los Angeles," his father said, "and not getting mixed up in this."

"James is in it. We're already mixed up."

Mr. Garcia sighed. "'Litos-"

"Why wasn't there any DNA taken from his body?" Carlos demanded.

His father sighed, clearly uncomfortable with the breach of confidentiality. He turned back to the door, opening it a bit before calling, "Lewis? Get in here, will you?" and turning back to his son. "We took samples, Carlos," he said dejectedly. "There were no scratches, no fingerprints, no hair, _nothing_."

As he finished, another officer, presumably Lewis, pushed through the ajar door. He stopped when he saw Carlos. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir," he apologized to Mr. Garcia.

He shook his head, motioning for him to close the door. "Lewis," he began. "Tell my son about the lack of physical evidence on Landon's body."

Lewis looked taken aback, and seemed to move to protest.

"It's okay. You have my permission."

The man nodded, hesitant. "We did a thorough examination for any fingerprints or DNA," he began, while Mr. Garcia opened the binder began sifting through the papers. "There were signs of bondage, but that's all. No prints, no blood that didn't match that of the victim's, no-"

"Why didn't the lab do a DNA verification?" Mr. Garcia's voice cut coldly through the room and stopped Lewis in his tracks. The man was startled, and seemed speechless for a moment.

"Lewis."

"W-well, the body was a match to the description, sir."

Carlos almost winced at the harsh look on his father's face. "And if this was a natural death, I might be able to accept that answer. I can't take a murder to court without a DNA test."

Lewis nodded. "Of course not. I'm sorry sir."

Mr. Garcia shrugged, opening a drawer on his desk and removing a stack of papers. "That's okay." He extended them to Lewis, who took them hesitantly. "You can be the one to explain to Mr. Diamond why we need to exhume his child's body."

Lewis did not look enthusiastic. "When do you. . . want it done?"

"By morning."

Well, _that_ would be a lot of paperwork. Lewis nodded solemnly, excusing himself and heading out the door. Mr. Garcia sighed audibly.

"Do you have to do that?" Carlos asked quietly after his father was silent for a few moments.

Mr. Garcia shook his head. "No. But if we don't, it gives the defense a loophole. And unfortunately I can't give Andrew that option." He rubbed a hand tiredly across his face, shutting the binder and placing it back on the shelf before turning back to his son. "'Litos," he began. "I appreciate your wanting to help. I do. And when you're a part of the force, I'll welcome it with open arms. But right now?" He came forward, putting his hands on his sons shoulder's. "I need you to trust me, and I need you to stay out of this. Okay?"

Carlos swallowed hard. "I will," he said in his most convincing tone. He plastered an earnest look on his face.

His father smiled. "Good man. Now, head on back, before James gets worried."

Carlos nodded, offering a quiet, "Goodnight," before exiting the room. Yeah, he definitely wasn't staying out of this.

He hadn't even gotten _started._

* * *

**AN: I love Carlos as comedic relief, but that's done, at least for a while. I like serious Carlos too, so. . . Thoughts? **

**God bless and much love,**

**-downtonabbey15**


End file.
